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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. However he had had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly 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 understood his location fairly 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 magnificent uncertain and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply order 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 condition turning on him the higher he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after 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 actually come to call Tonto began going crazy. Rearing up some and acting really silly. August was not amused and ended up being very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or at least 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 startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, vicious, and deadly. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid off into the rough, prowling, 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.
August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a man. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the guy 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once more 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 boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Nothing required stating, 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 nicely. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was amazing. Dakota was August's type of man if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and non-stop up until he might 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-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 dick!
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