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Monroe , 41 y
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There was the awareness that he might have just as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back 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' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, possibly locate a few of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandmother when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He knew his location fairly 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 a good idea to be cautious and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week just meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming livestock he helped 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 restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, as well. When the very first snows started to fall his thoughts rested entirely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly 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 change or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on forever. He struck off on another course that allegedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week went by, 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 knew that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto began freaking out. Raising up some and acting extremely goofy. August was not entertained and ended up being extremely cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or a minimum of spot them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had startled Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slinked 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 finally came upon a man. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the guy had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no method of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Nothing needed stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young kid's anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to view as cousin Mark mounted 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 had to come and position himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly 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 sound. 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 disgusting task of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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