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There was the awareness that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. He had actually 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 occur. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, possibly find some of his old family members, find his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He knew his location relatively well, the location of 2000, the location 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 mighty uncertain and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined 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 whole, as well. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater he went, however he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on forever. So he struck off on another path that allegedly led downward. Now he was absolutely lost. Another week went by, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased 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.

August was not entertained and became really wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to detect and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing 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 nothing to hear however bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a male. Laying down prone upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming therefore 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. But hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to live for quite longer, August had no chance of reaching any medical professional. The kid's ass muscles bent as he strove NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's crack. 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to again 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 boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing needed 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 anus, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung 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 had to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was amazing. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly till he could go no more. 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 resisted to the horrible 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 kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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