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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it exercised after all. But he had actually 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 locate a few of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his location fairly 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 leery and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few 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 purchase one from a dining establishment. 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 whole. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not entertained and became extremely cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or a minimum of identify them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, vicious, and lethal. 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, prowling, listening and stopping briefly . 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a male. Laying down vulnerable upon the ground with a substantial 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 some time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. Barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any physician. 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 almost vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to return to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, 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 teenagers did their best to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to again 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 boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Nothing required 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 anus, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to watch as cousin Mark installed 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 after that made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the revolting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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