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There was the realization that he might have simply as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had had his fill and it was time to carry on, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, possibly find a few of his old relatives, find his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood his location 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 unclear and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a couple of stray cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply purchase 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 entire. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another path that allegedly led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto started going crazy. Rearing up some and acting very silly. August was not amused and ended up being extremely wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things 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 detect for himself what had scared Tonto. He wanted 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, 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 pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a man. Setting susceptible upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August assumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The young boy's ass muscles flexed 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 too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then had 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and bring 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 trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. 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 boy's anus, 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 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 place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly till 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 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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