Victorian America

The truck is parked in a small recess of the mountain by a large forest road. My lips are wrapped around the driver's dick and I hope I'm giving him enough pleasure to get me to Denver... I look up, he seems to be enjoying my technique pretty much but, well, with those greedy bastards, you never know.

It's eleven thirty in the evening, my name is Erin Banks and I'm on my way back home. I'm on my way to New York after a long summer in California. I was supposed to use the money I made working for my uncle to pay for my tickets but I stopped in Vegas and discovered that I had a severe addiction to gambling. I'll have to keep that in check in the future. Anyway the driver's spasms seem to indicate that he's about to come. I start moaning to accelerate the process and... bingo, he comes! I've become quite good at this over the past few weeks. I swallow.

"Damn girl!" he says in his thick Kentucky accent, "that was a damn good suck you gave me! Where did you say you wanted me to drop you?"

"Denver," I answer the heart full of hope and the mouth full of cum.

"Lucky you, it's right on my road..."

Double bingo!

"... but I'm pretty sure we'll have to make a couple of pit stops on our way there, if you see what I mean," he finishes winking at me.

Damn... What did I tell you...? Greedy bastards.

While he engages the truck back on the lonely road, I look in my backpack if I can find something to wash the taste in my mouth. Finally I find a can of coke. I pop it open and as I'm about to drink some of warm beverage, a bright light engulfs the truck.

Suddenly the lonely mountain road disappears and the truck starts running downhill in the middle of a thick forest. The driver tries to desperately kick the brakes but to no avail, the truck continues accelerating through the green inferno outside our windows. Suddenly, in front of us, out of nowhere, appears a large tree. A very large tree. Large enough to stop the mad truck. In a move I manage to open the door and jump out of the cabin. Before reaching the ground I see the truck crash into the tree.

"From where I'm standing, the cabin looks a lot smaller than before," I manage to think before my head hits a rock and I drift into darkness.

When I come back to my sense the first thing I see is a set of dog teeth with a large pink tongue between them, the first thing I smell is the awful smell of the dog's breath, the first thing I feel is the hot, wet and sticky saliva of the animal all over my face and the first thing I hear is: "Washington? Where are you? God damn that stupid dog! Washington?" in a delicious English accent.

I push the stupid dog away and stand on my elbow. The fucked up truck is just below me. Suddenly the man whose exquisite voice I just heard appears from behind a rock. He's dressed in some kind of uniform I have never seen before.

"Washington..." he starts,

"...Oh! Young lady are you all right?..." he continues as he sees me,

"...How the fuck did that get here?" he finishes seeing the truck.

He helps me stand and introduces himself in the most gentlemanly manner. His name is Jeremiah Stone and he is the proud ranger in charge of this neck of the woods. I try to explain him my story but he doesn't believe me. According to him there are no roads on this side of the mountain as this is a natural hunting reserve.

"A natural hunting reserve?"

"Yes a natural hunting reserve."

"What do you mean by a natural hunting reserve?"

"I mean a natural... hunting ... reserve... You know a reserve for nobility to hunt."

"Nobility?"

This conversation is starting to get on my nerves...

"Yes, nobility, like the Count and the Countess... Nobility, what planet are you from young lady?"

A Count? I stop wondering if...

"Anyway, if we want me to take you to the town we should hurry up young lady."

I start following him up the hill. After the extraordinary experience of my first exchange with Sir Jeremiah Stone, I shut up all the way to his car. Two hours later we finally reach a small road, on the other side of the mountain. I should be puzzled by the disappearance of a full mountain road but I have a strong feeling that this isn't Kansas anymore, Toto. You could also tell me that I should be even more puzzled about the Kansas thing, but I can reassure, you I am.

The car... well the car is a pretty regular one, except for two slight details.

First, the wheel is on the wrong side. I realize that when Jeremiah tells me that I don't seem in condition to drive. I agree and open the door, to find... well the wheel on the passenger's side.

"Is this England?" I ask.

"Well no, of course not, this the Kingdom of Virginia, part of the Great British Empire."

Okay, so this is definitely not Kansas anymore.

The second small detail is the large necklace of garlic hanging from the rear view mirror... That, the Count, could it be that... Or simply the citizens of the Great British Empire enjoy chewing garlic. Maybe it's the great addiction here. In our world we have booze and cigarettes, and gambling, and here they have garlic...

I turn around the car, seat to the left of Jeremiah and let him take the road without screaming hysterically about the fact that he should be driving on the other side. As you can see, I adapt quickly...

Damn...