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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps 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 as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, maybe locate a few of his old family members, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd screw 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 wise to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just order one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. When the first snows began to fall his thoughts rested entirely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition switching on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed 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 modification or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week went by, he contravened 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.

August was not entertained and ended up being really wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and deadly. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing 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.

There was nothing to hear but pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a guy. Setting prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. But hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The young boy's ass muscles bent 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 crack. Arlene then had 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 exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and bring on-- requiring 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. 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 rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to see as cousin Mark mounted 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 then made her suck on the barrel.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. Dakota was August's sort of male if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and non-stop up until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls versus Arlene's ass made the only noise. 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 loaded asshole, Dakota then just 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 boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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