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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how everything exercised after all. However he had had his fill and it was time to carry 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 happen. He knew 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 a good idea to be cautious and leery and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough country, he invested a week just meandering around, finding a few stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply order one from a dining establishment. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Residing in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, as well. When the first snows started to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A nice warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the greater he went, but he wished to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he assumed would be among the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather condition change or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to concur-- he was getting nowhere fast. 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 entertained and became very wary. He wished his internal Device had some sort of ability to see things he himself could not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had scared Tonto. He desired 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, 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 but insects buzzing. Absolutely nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and finally came upon a guy. Laying down susceptible upon the ground with a substantial bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. But barely. He had actually been shot in the chest and had actually lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no way of reaching any doctor. The kid's ass muscles bent as he aimed NOT to pump into his cousin's mouth. Arlene retched, gagged, choked, and nearly vomited as she slurped on the two cocks, the balls and as well licked up Mark's crack. Arlene then had to return 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 exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their best to bring and stall on-- requiring Dakota to 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 wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed 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 weapon deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to see as cousin Mark installed 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 then made her suck on the barrel.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark had to come and place himself on the table and place his cock into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. If he weren't so callous, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however still silence in the shack, just the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 resisted to the revolting task of licking Arlene's orgasm packed asshole, Dakota then simply wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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