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There was the realization that he might have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly 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 however deal with it, perhaps find some of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography relatively 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 hesitant and careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply order one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, also. When the very 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, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. 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 from Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto began flipping out. Rearing up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not entertained and became very cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or a minimum of spot them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and fatal. 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, pausing and listening . 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 guy. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the male had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to bring and stall 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 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 packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing needed stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him well. 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls versus 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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