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There was the realization that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it exercised after all. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to carry on, possibly 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 take place. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do however deal with it, maybe find a few of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! 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 leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just order 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. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the greater he went, however he desired 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. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another course that apparently led downward. Now he was absolutely 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 against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.
August was not amused and became really wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and deadly. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped 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.
There was absolutely nothing to hear but insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a guy. Laying down susceptible upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. But barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any medical professional. The boy's ass muscles bent as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and too licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed to return to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to carry and stall 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 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. Nothing was stated. Nothing required 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 kid's anus, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to watch as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. STANDING 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 needed to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. Dakota was August's sort of guy if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting job of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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