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Briar , 24 y
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There was the realization that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. However he had actually 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 take place. He knew his location fairly 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 path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few roaming cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just order one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. When the very first snows began to fall his ideas rested entirely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially 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 modification or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August needed to concur-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he contravened 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 understood that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began going crazy. Rearing up some and acting extremely silly. August was not entertained and ended up being extremely cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were deadly, vicious, and deadly. 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, 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.

There was nothing to hear however pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a guy. Laying down susceptible upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no chance of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles flexed as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to go back 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 quickly, the two teens did their best to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once 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 kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. 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 anus, sodomizing him perfectly. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

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. Dakota was August's type of guy if he weren't so callous. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was absolutely nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against Arlene's ass made the only noise. 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 resisted to the horrible task of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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