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There was the realization that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He understood his geography 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 smart to be careful and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unclear and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a few roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified 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. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or perhaps Iowa, possibly even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased for miles by an even pissed off bear.

August was not amused and ended up being extremely careful. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself could not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had alarmed Tonto. He desired no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, prowling, listening and pausing . In one hand he bared a Colt revolver, the other hand a Bowie knife. He had a Springfield rifle with the horse.

August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a male. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for extremely much longer, August had no method of reaching any medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their finest to bring and stall 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 kid wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed 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 weapon deeper into the young boy'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 place himself on the table and place his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. Dakota was August's sort of male if he weren't so callous. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls against Arlene's ass made the only sound. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the disgusting 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 dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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