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There was the realization that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. 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 returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do however deal with it, possibly locate some of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography relatively well, the geography of 2000, the geography of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was a good idea to be careful and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply buy one from a dining establishment. 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 entire. 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 new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that supposedly led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto started flipping out. Raising up some and acting really silly. August was not amused and ended up being really careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and find for himself what had actually scared Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, prowling, 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.
There was nothing to hear but insects buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a man. Setting prone upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The kid's ass muscles bent as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and also licked up Mark's crack. 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once again 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. 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 weapon deeper into the young kid'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 installed 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 position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly till he might 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 sound. 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 fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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