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There was the realization that he could have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to carry 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 happen. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, perhaps find a few of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He understood his location relatively 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 wary and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would just buy one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, also. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested solely on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps 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 concur-- he was getting no place 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 became extremely wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see items he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and identify 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 securing him to a bush August slinked off into the rough, prowling, 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 but insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a male. 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 therefore August presumed that the man had 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 really alive. However hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no other way of reaching any doctor. The boy's ass muscles bent as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost threw up as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and also licked up Mark's crack. 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 teenagers did their best to stall and bring 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Nothing needed 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 boy's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to see 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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