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There was the realization that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything exercised after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps locate a few of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his geography fairly well, the location of 2000, the location of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was wise to be cautious and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a couple of stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified 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 the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sparse, 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, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually concerned call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not amused and ended up being very wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself could not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and identify 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 wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting 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 however bugs buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a man. Laying down susceptible upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no other way of reaching any doctor. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he strove 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 too licked up Mark's fracture. 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 teens did their best to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to once more get 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 packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young kid's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to watch as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. BASING 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 cock into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of male if he weren't so ruthless. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely 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 noise. 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 revolting job of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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