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There was the realization that he could have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe locate a few of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! 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 wise to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a few roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply purchase one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, as well. When the very first snows began to fall his thoughts rested entirely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather condition change or the insistence of continuing the futile adventure. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul 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 beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting extremely wacky. August was not amused and became extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or a minimum of find them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and fatal. He wanted no part of either among 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.
August made a couple of 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 method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest to bring and stall on-- forcing Dakota to again 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required saying, 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to see as cousin Mark installed 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was amazing. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so ruthless. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely 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 sound. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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