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There was the awareness that he could have just as well remained 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. Highly he felt that getting back house in 2000 was a no-go. It wasn't going to take place. He understood his location fairly well, the location of 2000, the location of 1875 he was a little fuzzy on. And beings that it WAS 1875, Old West, it was wise 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 couple of roaming cattle he assisted 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 better and he nailed one deer. Living in the rough was alright, he did miss out on the Ingalls' hospitality, Walnut Grove as a whole. When the first snows began to fall his ideas rested exclusively on the Ingalls. A good warm fire, a bed, hot soup, cornbread, fresh milk. His own grub was getting sparse, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, but he wanted to get up and over the mountain ridge and down into new area he presumed would be one of the Dakotas, or potentially Iowa, perhaps even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. His horse was not authorizing of the weather modification or the insistence 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, gone after for miles by an even pissed off bear.

Come the beginning of his 3rd week out from Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto started going crazy. Raising up some and acting very goofy. August was not entertained and ended up being very wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of capability to see things he himself could not see, or at least identify them, or something. He was at length able to soothe the horse down, August strained to discover and listen for himself what had actually alarmed Tonto. He desired 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.

There was absolutely nothing to hear but insects buzzing. Nothing stirred. August made a couple of more stalwart prowlings and lastly encountered a male. Setting prone upon the ground with a huge bloodstain on his backside. He didn't have any boots on, either. Flies were already swarming and so August assumed that the man had been dead there for a long time. Thoroughly August took out of the rough and as much as where the man lay. To his surprise, the man was still in fact alive. However hardly. He had been shot in the chest and had lost a great deal of blood. He wasn't going to be alive for very much 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 also licked up Mark's fracture. Arlene then had to return 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 quickly, the two teens did their finest to stall and carry on-- forcing Dakota to once 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 said. Nothing needed 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 kid's anus, sodomizing him well. His other hand he hung on to the lad's hair, holding it up securely, forcing him to view 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 place himself on the table and insert his dick into her mouth. The ordeal was extraordinary. If he weren't so ruthless, Dakota was August's kind of man. With the six-shooter, Arlene was without delay odorized. She was more sodomized with Dakota's cock. He slammed her deeply and non-stop until he could go no more. There was nothing but 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 fought back to the horrible task of licking Arlene's cum loaded asshole, Dakota then just wrench the lad into a new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the kid's face-- Or you SUCK my cock!

 

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