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There was the realization that he could have just as well stuck with the Ingalls, to see how all of it worked out after all. But he had had his fill and it was time to move on, possibly 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 happen. He was still mystified as to how the Device wound up in his noggin' anyhow! There was nought to deal but do with it, perhaps find a few of his old loved ones, discover his great-great-great granny when she was young and hot and score with her! That 'd mess up the timeline for sure! He knew his geography relatively 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 a good idea to be leery and careful and on guard-- Indians were still magnificent uncertain and bandits 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 assisted himself to some fresh steak. It was a little gross and he determined that in the future he would simply purchase 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. His own grub was getting sporadic, the weather condition turning on him the higher he went, but 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 perhaps Iowa, maybe even Nebraska, he wasn't sure. Soon the days got as cold as the nights. His horse was not authorizing of the weather change or the persistence of continuing the futile experience. August had to agree-- he was getting nowhere quickly. The mountain path appeared to wind on and on and on permanently. He struck off on another path that allegedly 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 versus a rock and bruised some ribs, clunked his head and understood that he had a concussion.

Come the start of his 3rd week out of Walnut Grove his horse he had actually come to call Tonto began going crazy. Raising up some and acting really goofy. August was not amused and ended up being extremely wary. He wanted his internal Device had some sort of ability to see objects he himself could not see, or a minimum of discover them, or something. He was at length able to relax the horse down, August strained to listen and identify for himself what had spooked Tonto. He figured either a snake or Indians. Either one he was not cool with. Both were fatal, 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 slinked off into the rough, prowling, 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 finally came upon a male. Flies were already swarming and so August presumed that the male 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 medical professional. Compliance was not precisely complied to quickly, the two teens did their best to carry and stall on-- forcing Dakota to once again 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 boy used was ripped down and the barrel of the six-shooter crammed into the lad's hole. Nothing was said. Absolutely nothing needed stating, 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 boy's anus, sodomizing him nicely. STANDING on Mark's back Dakota took his turn and fucking young Arlene.

Arlene was ruthlessly wrenched over and spanked hard, Mark needed to come and place himself on the table and place 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 cock. There was nothing however still silence in the shack, only the crackling fire in the fireplace and the slapping 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 clean! Dakota sneered. When Mark fought back to the horrible job of licking Arlene's orgasm loaded asshole, Dakota then merely wrench the lad into a brand-new position-- Either you fuckin' lick HER hole tidy-- he jeered and shoved his gangly ultra-funky dick up against the young boy's face-- Or you SUCK my dick!

 

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