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There was the awareness that he might have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all exercised after all. However he had actually had his fill and it was time to proceed, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Strongly he felt that getting back house 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 smart to be leery and cautious and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws roamed the wildlands, too.
A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few roaming cattle he helped himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply buy one from a restaurant. Fishing was better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole, too. When the very 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 condition switching on him the higher he went, however 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 perhaps 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 modification or the insistence of continuing the useless experience. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. So he struck off on another course that supposedly led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week went by, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.
August was not entertained and ended up being really wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself might not see, or at least discover them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to detect and listen 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 among them. After backing his horse up a bit and securing him to a bush August slipped off into the rough, lurking, stopping briefly and listening . 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 guy. Flies were currently swarming and so August presumed that the man had been dead there for some time. He wasn't going to be alive for very much longer, August had no method of reaching any physician. Compliance was not exactly complied to quickly, the two teenagers did their best to stall and carry on-- requiring Dakota to once more get 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 young boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter stuffed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Absolutely nothing required stating, 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 boy's anus, sodomizing him nicely. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, requiring him to enjoy 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 then made her suck on the barrel.
Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was unbelievable. Dakota was August's kind of guy if he weren't so ruthless. With the six-shooter, Arlene was immediately odorized. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. He slammed her deeply and non-stop until he could 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 sound. When done, Dakota wrenched Mark up from the floor and pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it tidy! Dakota sneered. When Mark resisted to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm laden asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he mocked and shoved his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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