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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 had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly 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 wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps find a few of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd screw 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 wary and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, finding 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 simply order one from a dining establishment. Fishing was 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 solely on the Ingalls. A nice 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 territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting no place quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
August was not entertained and ended up being very wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and discover for himself what had scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and fatal. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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.
August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and carry 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 trousers 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. Nothing was said. 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 boy's anus, 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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