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There was the awareness that he might have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But 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 take place. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps find a few of his old relatives, find his great-great-great grandmother when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his location relatively 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 hesitant and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a couple of stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply buy one from a restaurant. 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. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather switching on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. 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 fast. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after 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.
Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had concerned call Tonto started freaking out. Rearing up some and acting very silly. August was not entertained and ended up being very careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or a minimum of detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid 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 few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a man. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed 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 quickly, the two teenagers did their best to carry and stall on-- forcing 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 young boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed 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 rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. 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 incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against 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 revolting task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then merely 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 cock!
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