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There was the awareness that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, 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 take place. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do however deal with it, possibly find some of his old relatives, find his great-great-great grandmother when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his location 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 careful and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few roaming cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just 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 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 turning on him the higher he went, however he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another path that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone 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 very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself might not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had scared Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid off into the rough, prowling, listening and pausing . 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 couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the male had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to again 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required stating, 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 anus, sodomizing him nicely. 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 position himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. He knocked her deeply and non-stop until he could go no more. 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 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 disgusting job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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