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There was the realization that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to carry on, 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe find some of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography relatively well, the location 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 wary and careful and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just 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 simply order one from a dining establishment. 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. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition switching on him the higher he went, however he wanted 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 futile experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started going nuts. Rearing up some and acting really goofy. August was not amused and ended up being very careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself could not see, or a minimum of spot them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid off into the rough, prowling, 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.

August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the male had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and bring 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 boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him well. 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 unbelievable. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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