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There was the awareness that he could have simply as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had had his fill and it was time to move on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. He was still mystified as to how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal however do with it, perhaps find some of his old family members, discover his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! 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 leery and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a few stray 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 much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather turning on him the greater he went, however he desired to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the insistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started freaking out. Rearing up some and acting very goofy. August was not entertained and became very wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself might not see, or a minimum of detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to spot and listen 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 desired 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, stopping briefly 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 absolutely nothing to hear however pests buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came across a male. Laying down prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Barely. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The kid's ass muscles flexed 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 fracture. Arlene then had to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs opened wide, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teens did their finest to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to once again grab a holt of Adam's young head and wrench him upwards ... then in a flash the lad's wool pants were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him well. His other hand he held on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, forcing him to enjoy 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 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 place his cock into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so callous. She was further sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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