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There was the realization that he could have simply as well remained with the Ingalls, to see how it all worked out. But he had actually had his fill and it was time to carry on, perhaps mosey down to St. Louis, New Orleans, or Arizona. Highly he felt that returning home in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyways! There was nought to do but deal with it, maybe locate some of his old loved ones, find his great-great-great grandmother 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 wise to be wary and hesitant and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent unsettled and outlaws strolled the wildlands, too.
A mountain path took him up into some rough country, he spent a week simply meandering around, finding a few stray cattle he helped 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 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 very first snows began to fall his thoughts rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A great warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather switching on him the higher he went, however he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into brand-new territory he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or possibly Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the useless adventure. 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 extremely cautious. He wished his internal Device had some sort of capability to see objects he himself might not see, or at least spot them, or something. He was at length able to calm the horse down, August strained to spot and listen for himself what had spooked Tonto. He desired 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, listening and pausing . 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 bugs buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a few more stalwart prowlings and finally encountered a guy. Laying down prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his behind. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming therefore August presumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August stole out of the rough and approximately where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still actually alive. Hardly. He had actually been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for quite longer, August had no way of reaching any medical professional. The kid's ass muscles bent 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 too licked up Mark's crack. 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 rapidly, the two teens did their best to stall and bring on-- forcing 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 young boy wore was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter packed into the lad's hole. Absolutely nothing was said. Nothing required stating, Mark went to his knees, parted his cousin's cunny lips and proceeded in noshing. Dakota worked the barrel of the gun deeper into the young boy's rectum, sodomizing him perfectly. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up tightly, requiring him to see 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 had to come and position himself on the table and insert his cock into her mouth. The experience was incredible. Dakota was August's kind of male if he weren't so callous. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. There was absolutely nothing however 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 pushed his face into Arlene's tormented ass-- Lick it clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the disgusting task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole clean-- he mocked and pushed his gangly ultra-funky cock up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!
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