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There was the realization that he might have simply as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had actually had his fill and it was time to move on, 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 occur. He understood his location fairly 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 hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still mighty unsettled and bandits strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week just meandering around, discovering a couple of stray livestock he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would just order one from a dining establishment. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the greater he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not approving of the weather modification or the persistence of continuing the useless adventure. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere fast. 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 beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had concerned call Tonto started flipping out. Raising up some and acting very wacky. August was not entertained and ended up being really cautious. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see items he himself could not see, or a minimum of discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had actually 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.
August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a male. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the guy had actually been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for really much longer, August had no method of reaching any doctor. Compliance was not exactly complied to rapidly, the two teenagers did their finest to stall and bring on-- forcing 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 young boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Nothing required saying, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded 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 view as cousin Mark mounted Arlene and entered her. BASING 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 insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was incredible. Dakota was August's type of male if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was promptly odorized. She was further sodomized with Dakota's dick. He knocked her deeply and non-stop up until he might go no more. There was 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 resisted to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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