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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. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. 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 smart to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few roaming cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just buy one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested entirely on the Ingalls. A great 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 area 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 condition change or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- 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 beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto started freaking out. Rearing up some and acting really silly. August was not amused and ended up being extremely cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself might not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and fatal. He wanted 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 however bugs buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Putting down susceptible upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any physician. The 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 too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and bring on-- forcing Dakota to once 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to see as cousin Mark installed 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 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 dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of male if he weren't so callous. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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