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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how it all exercised after all. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, maybe 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 take place. He understood his location relatively well, the geography 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 roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a couple of roaming cattle he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply 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, but he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to concur-- he was getting no place quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began freaking out. Rearing up some and acting really goofy. August was not amused and became very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had scared Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and fatal. He desired no part of either among them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing 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 nothing to hear but pests buzzing. 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 and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. However hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no other way of reaching any physician. The young boy's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and too licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had 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 stall and bring on-- requiring Dakota to once more 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 stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. 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 kid's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to watch 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 after that 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 incredible. Dakota was August's type of guy if he weren't so callous. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace balls versus Arlene's ass made the only noise. 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 revolting job of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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