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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, maybe locate some of his old family members, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his location 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 hesitant and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just purchase one from a dining establishment. 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, as well. When the very first snows started to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul 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.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto started flipping out. Raising up some and acting extremely silly. August was not amused and became really careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had startled Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, stopping briefly and listening . 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a man. Laying down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. 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. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any medical professional. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he made every effort 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 too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then had to return 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 precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to once 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 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 gun deeper into the young boy's anus, sodomizing him nicely. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly till he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 resisted to the revolting task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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