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There was the realization that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything worked out after all. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to carry on, perhaps 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 happen. He was still mystified regarding how the Device ended up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to deal but do with it, possibly locate some of his old family members, 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 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 wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and bandits wandered the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering 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 purchase one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, also. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested solely on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. 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 brand-new territory he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather change or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August had to agree-- he was getting no place quickly. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear.
Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting really goofy. August was not amused and ended up being extremely careful. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself could not see, or a minimum of identify them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to listen and discover for himself what had spooked Tonto. 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, 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 few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a male. Setting vulnerable 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 a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. 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 physician. The young boy's ass muscles bent as he made every effort NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly threw up as she slurped on the two dicks, the balls and also licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to return 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 teenagers did their best to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to once again 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 young boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was stated. Absolutely nothing required saying, 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 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 needed to come and position himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The experience was extraordinary. Dakota was August's type of guy if he weren't so callous. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and relentlessly until he might go no more. There was nothing but still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the slapping and the fireplace 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 job of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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