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There was the awareness that he could 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 carry on, perhaps 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 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 a good idea to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just buy one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. 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 start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting really silly. August was not entertained and became very careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself could 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 find for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and deadly. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, listening and stopping briefly . 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 few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Flies were already 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 exactly complied to rapidly, the two teens did their best to bring and stall 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 pants 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 crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. 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 anus, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to watch 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 position himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and non-stop up until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 revolting job of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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