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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 worked out after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that getting back home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, maybe locate a few of his old relatives, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood 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 smart to be hesitant and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, finding a few roaming cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply order 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, also. When the very first snows began to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition switching on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not amused and ended up being extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could 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 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 protecting him to a bush August slid off into the rough, lurking, listening and stopping briefly . 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 however pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a man. Laying down prone upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. But barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot 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 aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and as well 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 needed to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to bring and stall on-- forcing Dakota to again 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 packed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely 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 held on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to enjoy 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 had to come and place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. Dakota was August's sort of male if he weren't so callous. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then merely 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 boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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