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There was the awareness that he might have simply 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, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly 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 deal but do with it, perhaps find some of his old relatives, find his great-great-great grandma when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography 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 hesitant and careful and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he invested a week simply meandering around, discovering a couple of roaming livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he figured out that in the future he would simply purchase one from a dining establishment. Fishing was 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, also. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he presumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had pertained to call Tonto started going crazy. Rearing up some and acting very silly. August was not entertained and became really wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself might not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had actually startled Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were lethal, vicious, and fatal. He wanted 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 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 insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came across a man. Setting susceptible upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and up to where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no other way of reaching any physician. The young boy's ass muscles flexed as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and almost vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and also licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then needed to go back to the table and lay on it with her legs widened, hands to her side. Mark then had to go to her, on his knees, and lick her. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring 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 trousers were down and he was bent over Dakota's knee, the trap door of the long underwear the kid used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Nothing needed saying, 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 perfectly. 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 position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of male. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping balls versus Arlene's ass made the only sound. 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 orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!
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