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Brothels Bramley Vale S44

 

There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. However he had had his fill and it was time to proceed, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly 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 wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal but do with it, maybe 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 fairly 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 wise to be cautious and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and bandits roamed the wildlands, too.

A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a couple of stray 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 restaurant. 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. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the higher 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 perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere 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 ended up being really cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and spot for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and deadly. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slid off into the rough, lurking, listening and stopping briefly . 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 pests buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a male. Putting down susceptible upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the man had actually been dead there for some time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still really alive. But 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 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 almost threw up as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and too licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then needed 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 teenagers did their finest to stall and bring on-- requiring Dakota to again get 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 used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young kid's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. 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 position himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was quickly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and relentlessly until 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 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 tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then just 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 boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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