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There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, maybe mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly 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 however do with it, perhaps find a few of his old loved ones, 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 geography 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 smart to be wary and wary and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few roaming livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply purchase one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather turning on him the greater he went, but 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 potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Quickly the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the useless adventure. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that supposedly led downward. Now he was completely lost. Another week passed, he contravened of a one pissed off territorial badger, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually pertained to call Tonto started flipping out. Rearing up some and acting very wacky. August was not amused and became very cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or a minimum of detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had startled Tonto. 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, 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 absolutely nothing to hear however bugs buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a guy. Setting vulnerable upon the ground with a big bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Carefully August stole out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. Hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had actually lost a lot of blood. He wasn't going to live for very much longer, August had no chance of reaching any physician. The boy's ass muscles flexed 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 cocks, the balls and as well 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 teenagers did their finest to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once 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 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 continued in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to watch 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 after that made her suck on the barrel.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was incredible. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so ruthless. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing but still silence in the shack, only 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 pressed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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