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Brothels Briscoe DL12

 

There was the realization that he could have just as well stayed with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. He had had his fill and it was time to move 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 take place. He was still mystified regarding how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, possibly find a few of his old family members, find his great-great-great grandma when she was hot and young and rating with her! That 'd screw up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography relatively 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 cautious and on guard-- Indians were still mighty uncertain and outlaws wandered the wildlands, too.

A mountain course took him up into some rough nation, he spent a week simply meandering around, discovering a few stray livestock he assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he identified that in the future he would simply buy one from a restaurant. Fishing was much better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a entire. When the first snows started to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather switching on him the greater he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new territory he assumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not approving of the weather condition modification or the persistence of continuing the futile adventure. August needed to agree-- he was getting nowhere quick. The mountain course seemed to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that apparently led downward. Now he was totally lost. Another week passed, he ran afoul of a one pissed off territorial badger, chased after for miles by an even pissed off bear. He fell against a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and knew that he had a concussion.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began flipping out. Raising up some and acting very goofy. August was not entertained and became really cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least detect them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to find and listen for himself what had actually spooked Tonto. He wanted no part of either one of them. After backing his horse up a bit and protecting him to a bush August slipped 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.

August made a few more stalwart prowlings and lastly came upon a guy. Flies were currently swarming and so August assumed that the man 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 teens did their finest to stall and carry 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 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 crammed 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 kid's anus, sodomizing him well. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

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 amazing. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of guy. She was additional sodomized with Dakota's dick. 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 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 fought back to the revolting task of licking Arlene's cum laden asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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