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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. However he had actually 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 relatively well, the geography 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 wary and careful and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding 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 just purchase one from a restaurant. 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. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto began freaking out. Rearing up some and acting very goofy. August was not amused and ended up being very wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or a minimum of spot them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and detect for himself what had actually alarmed Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, lurking, 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 lastly came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to stall and carry on-- requiring 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 boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. 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 boy's anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to view 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 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 insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was amazing. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely 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 resisted to the disgusting job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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