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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all exercised after all. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move 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 regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, possibly locate a few of his old family members, 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 location fairly well, the geography of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was a good idea to be wary and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a few 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 much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another course 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 knew that he had a concussion.
August was not amused and became very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to identify 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 deadly, 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 slinked 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 male. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the guy had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to stall and carry on-- requiring 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Nothing needed saying, 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 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's cum laden 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 kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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