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Brothels Bragar HS2

 

There was the awareness that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, possibly 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 regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe locate some of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great granny when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He understood 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 hesitant and careful and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a few roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would just buy one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much 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. His own grub was getting sparse, 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 assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another course that apparently led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had come to call Tonto began flipping out. Rearing up some and acting really wacky. August was not entertained and ended up being really careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself might not see, or at least find them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and discover for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slid 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 however insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Putting down 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 actually been dead there for some time. Carefully August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The boy's ass muscles flexed as he strove 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 as well licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed 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 quickly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to once more 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 boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required stating, 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 well. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. Dakota was August's kind of man if he weren't so ruthless. She was more sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, only 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 fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum packed asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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