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There was the realization that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it exercised after all. He had 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 house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He knew his geography fairly 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 wise to be cautious and leery and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just purchase 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 whole. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting no place 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 from Walnut Grove his horse he had concerned call Tonto began flipping out. Rearing up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not amused and ended up being very cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and detect for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. 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, lurking, 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. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came across a male. Setting prone upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. 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 chance of reaching any doctor. The boy's ass muscles flexed as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited 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 opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their best to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to once more get 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. 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 dick into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of male. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly until he could go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 horrible job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply 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 dick!
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