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There was the realization that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it exercised after all. However he had had his fill and it was time to carry on, perhaps 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 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 wary and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unclear and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just 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. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless 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, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not entertained and became extremely cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and lethal. He wanted 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, listening and pausing . 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 bugs buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a man. Laying down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. But hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any physician. The boy's ass muscles bent 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 also licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to return to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their best to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once more get 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. 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 weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to view 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 after that made her suck on the barrel.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop up 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 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 disgusting task of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then simply 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 dick!

 

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