Zelina woke with a jolt as the coach’s wagon dropped down into a rut in the dry dusty road, causing her body to bump into the passenger seated next to her. Sitting up quickly, her eyes flew open, her hands coming up to rub the sleep from them as she tried to figure out where she was. As she looked around her eyes grew as big as saucers as she found herself in a very unfamiliar place... and time period.

From what Zelina could figure out, she was in some sort of conveyance that you would find in the 1800s; possibly a stagecoach or wagon. The person she had bumped into was a stocky older man dressed in a faded denim shirt, work trousers, and had a cowboy hat pulled down over his face, snoring lightly. Apparently, she had not disturbed his sleep.

Across the aisle from her sat two very prim looking women, giving her what looked to here to be looks of disdain. Both were covered from head to toe in dresses of satin with long sleeves and a high lace collar, one of dark blue and the other of deep pink with matching hats, gloves covering their hands. Looking down Zelina saw that she was dressed in a green gingham dress with a scooped neckline that showed a bit of cleavage.

‘What in the hell is going on? How did I get here?” she wondered to herself. The last thing that Zelina remembered was being in the college library working on a report about the Old West for her American History class...and falling asleep on the book, exhausted after a night of partying. ‘No way!!! There is no way... it is not possible.’ Zelina thought. ‘Time travel is not real. It is only something that is used in books.’

Looking across at the two ladies, Zelina swallowed hard and asked, “What year is this?” Feeling stupid for asking but she had to know.

The lady wearing blue, who appeared to be the older of the two, let out an unladylike snort as she said, “It is the year 1850.”

Zelina's mouth dropped open, unable to form a word, as all kinds of thoughts started to run through her mind, trying to figure out how this happened and most importantly, how was she going to get back to modern time. She once again looked down at her attire, trying to figure out just what character she was supposed to be in this nightmare play. Was she a housewife? Was she a teacher? Was she, heaven forbid, a lady of the night? So many questions but how to find the answers without sounding like a crazy lady.

Leaning forward, the younger lady asked, “Are you okay? You look kind of pale?”

“Amanda Grace, we do not associate with her type,” the older lady reprimanded the younger one.

“But mother, she may be ill and you have said we should be nice to all.”

“Well, not her. Who knows what type of disease she might have. You saw what building she came out of when she boarded the stage at the last minute in Silver Creek.”

Without thinking how it might sound, Zelina asked, “What type of building?” although she had an idea of what type they were talking about but want clarification.

“Ms. Abigail, the most expensive brothel in town,” the man said beside her said as he pushed his hat upon his head and sat up straighter. “Man, you must have gotten hit harder than you first thought.”

“Hit?”

“Yeah, hit. We were ready to pull out when you came running out, carrying a carpet bag, your lip bleeding, your bodice torn, begging to be taken in,” he explained. “I am Cal and I was playing cards there in the game room. I saw you sashaying around the room and then you went upstairs with this monstrous man who was bragging about a big stake he had just hit. Did you steal his poke? Is that why you were in such a hurry to get out of town?”

Drawing herself up straighter Zelina said, “I am not a thief nor am I a prostitute.”

At the mention of the word prostitute both of the women let out audible gasps of horror, both their hands covering their ears. Although it was a serious situation Zelina could not help laughing.

“Claim all you want but I know what I saw.”

Looking around for a bag she saw nothing but a small drawstring velvet bag in her lap. “Where is this so-called carpet bag? I can prove I am not a thief.”

“In the boot of the stagecoach. You can get it at our next stop, which should be in about three hours.”

Zelina was so sure that this was a dream... or a nightmare... and that she would soon wake up and find herself with her face on the book she had been reading for research. Without thinking she reached down and pinched her arm, finding that it hurt... a sign that she was awake, that this was a real nightmare.

She scooted away from the man toward the other side of the coach, wondering why in the first place she was sitting so close to him. As if her hand had a mind of its own, it wandered up and touched her lips, causing her to wince when it touched a split, swollen bottom lip.

Suddenly she heard the pounding of several horses hooves coming up toward the stagecoach and a deep voice shout, “Stop the coach now and throw down the shotguns. NOW!!!!”

Both of the women screamed in terror, cowering closer together on the seat, sure that they were about to be ravaged by a band of savages. In spite of the grave situation, Zelina could not help laughing but quickly quieted as she saw the man slowly drawing out his gun. The coach slowly pulled to a stop and then she could hear the sound of what was apparently shotguns hitting the ground.

“You in the coach, I see your arm moving. If you want to keep your head I suggest you throw out your gun,” a deep voice said from the opposite side of the coach.

As Zelina turned her head, she gave out a squeal as she saw the huge barrel of a pistol poking through the open window. The man hesitated for a moment, and when he heard the click of the hammer being drawn back, he decided to toss it out the window. The door was then flung open, and Zelina took it that she was to get out so she quickly hopped out of the door, landing unsteadily on her feet. The man with the gun grabbed her by the arm to keep her from falling.

“Thanks,” Zelina said looking up and up until she was staring into the deepest pair of dark brown eyes that she had ever seen; so dark they seemed to pierce her soul.

He had to be at least six foot two, with shaggy black hair, a muscular body, and weathered skin but most of his face was covered with a blue bandana. He released her arm and pointed to a spot a few feet from her to move to and stand.

As he turned to help the other two women out, he called over his shoulder, “Surprised to see my favorite whore on the coach. Think I will just have to take you with me for some fun with me and my guys tonight.”

Zelina stopped dead in her tracks, turned and punched him in the gut with her fist, hurting her fist more than him as she said angrily, “I am not a whore!”

“Whatever,” he said as he ushered the other two away from the coach. Training his gun on the coach, the hammer back he called out, “I know that you threw your gun out the window but there is still a chance you have a hidden gun so come out slowly with your hands high. Any tricks and I will gut shoot you and let you die an agonizing death so don’t think about playing hero for a whore and two uptight asses.”

Cal slowly stepped out of the stagecoach, his hands high over his head. At the same time, the driver and one riding shotgun came around the back of the coach followed by two other men, their faces, like the first one, were covered with bandanas. When they were all in a group, the two other men covered them with their guns while the apparent leader opened the boot and extracted three burlap sacks of what Zelina conceived was money. Once they were attached to the pommel of the packhorse they had, the leader grabbed all the weapons.

“Sit,” he ordered the passengers.

The two women hesitated at first but then decided that getting their skirts dirty was better than being dead or something much worse but Zelina just stood there, daring any of the three apparent outlaws to do anything.

“Hey look at her, still the willful bitch,” one of the outlaws called out. “Daring one of us to make her sit.”

“She doesn’t sit now she may not be able to later,” the leader warned glaring at her.

Zelina just glared back, and then she felt a slight tug on the hem of her skirt and a soft voice say, “You had better sit down.”

“Fuck him, no man tells me what to do,” Zelina said as she strolled up toward him.

Ignoring her, the leader said, “Give us thirty minutes and then you can resume your journey... and if you don’t wait, the horses will be shot and you will all have a long walk to the nearest relay station.”

Reaching out he grabbed Zelina by the arm and took her over to the boot. “Which one is yours?”

Zelina had no idea which was hers and just stood there staring.

“It is the flowery carpet bag,” Cal said. “The leather one is mine and the two ladies have the trunks on top of the stage.”

Before she could grab it, one of the other outlaws grabbed it and took it over to hook it on the pommel of the packhorse. Damian took her arm, dragging her over to the packhorse, cupping his hand so she could use it to mount the horse. She had never ridden a horse and was unsure what to do, wishing now that she had not let her stubbornness get the best of her. When she just stood there, he grabbed her and threw her, belly first over the horse. Zelina squealed and slid off, hitting the ground hard on her ass, spooking the horse. He grabbed her by the collar of her dress, hauling her back out of the stomping hoofs.

“Quit pretending you cannot ride, bitch.”

“But I can’t ride,” she protested.

He snorted and vaulted onto his horse, letting one of the others grab the reins to the packhorse while he grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her up in front of him. Zelina quickly spread her legs, not caring that her skirt rose up to below her knees and settled on the saddle in front of him. The other two got on their horses and headed out over the uneven rocky ground toward the mountains in the distance. As soon as they were out of sight the stage driver hopped to his feet, offering his hand to the two ladies.

“I wouldn’t advise you to think about even getting ready to leave until the time is up,” Cal said

“They are gone,” Frank, the driver said. “The sooner we get to the relay station the sooner we can get word to the sheriff so they can get a posse out. That poor woman needs rescuing.”

“Yeah, they have left but I know who the leader is and he sure in the hell has one of them someone on that outcropping about five miles out watching us. And that poor woman is a whore and is apparently a plaything of that gang. She will be fine.” Cal said moving over to the bit of shade the coach offered.

As if they had read the mind of the stage driver, a shot rang out, hitting the ground in front of the horses. The ladies jumped up and ran for the cover of the stage while the driver and the one riding shotgun joined Cal on the ground in the shade of the stage.

As they headed toward who knows where, Zelina gripped the horn of the saddle tight in her fists, her legs gripping the chest of the big beast between them, so sure at any moment she would fall to her death under the thundering hoofs of the horse. Wiggling, trying to get better settled, Zelina felt her ass rub against the crotch of the outlaw behind her. To her surprise, she could feel the start of an erection pressing against her ass.

Leaning forward, he whispered, “Been a while since I had some pussy and ass but going to make up for it tonight. And once I am sated the boys can have their turn. Who knows, you may get a cock sandwich and a cock drink.”

“Look, I am not who you think I am,”

“Do you have a small birthmark on the right side of your stomach?”

“Ah... yeah... how do you know?” she asked in wonderment.

“Then you are Zelina Cortez, my favorite whore who loves sex and can do things with her mouth and pussy than no other woman I have ever fucked can do.”

Out of the blue, a cold chill invaded her body at the mention of the name he had called her. For extra credit in her American History class, she had done a trace of her ancestors and one of the names she vaguely remembered popping up was Zelina Cortez... her great, great-great-grandmother. But she had not had read what it said because she figured it would be as boring as the rest of it. ‘Oh my God!!! She was a prostitute! I cannot believe it,’ Zelina thought to herself. ‘But how in the hell did I suddenly become her and why? Time travel must be real. I am living her life!’

Part of Zelina was excited to live as her great, great, great grandmother but another part of her was a bit scared as she did not know exactly how or when she died. Zelina was brought out of her thoughts when she felt a hand cup her breast, fingers tweaking her nipple hard. She wanted to slap the hand away but was scared if she let go she would fall off so she let him do as he pleased.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” she began, “but I don’t remember your name or your gang’s names,” realizing how stupid that sounded but telling him she was a time traveler would not make any more sense.

He gave out a low chuckle and told her, “Such a kick to the balls when you cannot remember my name. And you told me that fuck we gave you was the best you had ever had Zelina.”

“I... ah... ah... had a little incident. I hit my head when one of my johns hit me and knocked me into the wall so my memory is a bit fuzzy.”

“Okay, I will buy your excuse... this time,” he said. “My name is Damian. That one in the lead is Dakota, who we call Kota, and the one I left behind was Colin.”

They continued on in silence, only stopping a few times to stretch their legs and rest the horses and give them a chance to drink. Zelina lost track of time and soon found herself nodding off, her grip relaxing on the pommel. Damian wrapped his arms around her waist to make sure that she did not fall off. About an hour from their destination Colin caught up with them.

“Everything okay, Colin?” Damian asked

“Yep,” he replied slowing his horse to a trot beside Damian. “Glad you brought her along. I need a good fuck.”

“Well, I get her first.” Damian said “And apparently she had some trouble with a client and he smacked her hard enough to hit her head on the wall so she is having trouble remembering us. Ride on up and tell Kota.”

Soon they slowed their horses as they began to wind their way up and down narrow paths in the mountains that were hard to see. After several miles the path, they were traveling opened up to the mouth of a blind canyon with only one way in and one way out. They stopped and Kota grabbed his red bandana and waved it in the air, letting the hidden guards know who they were. The men waited until they saw the tip of a rifle point upwards before they moved inside toward their cabin at the end of the canyon. As they pulled to a stop Zelina started to stir.

“We’re here,” Damian said shaking her shoulder.

Reaching up Colin grabbed her by the waist and hauled her off the horse, setting her on her feet, which felt like rubble noodles, causing her to wobble and sink to the ground. Colin grabbed her up and carried her toward the cabin. Kota went ahead and opened the door for him, and then came back to grab the reins of the horses to take to the stable to be unsaddled, brushed down, and then given some food. Damian grabbed all the sacks of money and headed into the cabin.

“Where am I?” Zelina asked him as she looked around the sparsely furnished one-room cabin. Suddenly it hit her that there was no stove or refrigerator like she was used to and no comfortable twin bed.

“My cabin,” Damian said. “Not much but I do have a soft place to fuck. The boys live next door,” as he tossed her carpet bag at her feet and went outside carrying the money bags.

Colin tipped his hat to her, saying, “Cannot wait to have you again,” as he headed out the back door following Damian.

Zelina just stood there, not sure what she was supposed to do. One thing she knew she wanted was a nice hot bath but looking around the cabin she could not see a door that would indicate a bathroom behind it. When he came back in a bit later Damian saw that she was standing in the same place where he had left her, the carpet bag still between her feet.

“I need a bath,” she simply stated turning to look at him, “but I do not see a bathroom.”

Damian chuckled and told her, “Drag the tub in from off the porch, draw you some water from the well, and either heat it on the stove or take a cold bath.”

It was then that she realized just how primitive things were back in 1850, making her wonder just how her relatives stood it, but then they knew no different.

“Hurry up and make up your mind, babe,” Damian said. “My cock needs your pussy.”

Zelina, who had been so lost in thought, did not realize at first that he was not standing right in front of her. Turning her body slightly she saw him lying on the makeshift bed, completely naked, his hand gently stroking his cock. At the sight of his cock, her mouth fell open slightly at the size of it. She was no virgin but never had she been with a man who had that size cock; it was at least seven and a half inches long and three inches wide.

“Are you just going to stare at it and drool or are you going to come over here and ride me?”

As if her body had a mind of its own, Zelina found her hands unbuttoning what seemed like a thousand tiny buttons down the front of her dress. Underneath she found she was wearing a thin cotton chemise and pantaloons but not the whalebone corset that so many women of that day preferred to accent their tiny waists according to what she had read.

Walking over to Damian he sat up and when she was close enough, he reached out, grabbed her arm and tugged her down next to him. Her hand reached between them, encircling his cock. Slowly she started to move her hand up and down his soft velvety cock, feeling it start to harden even more in her hand.

They leaned toward each other, their lips softly touching. Grabbing his lower lip between her teeth she sucked and tugged on it as he pulled her closer. Damian grabbed a handful of hair in his hands, pulling her head back to give him access to her neck. He proceeded to plant kisses around her throat, up one side and then the other, sucking on her earlobes and nipping at the tender skin. Damian made his way to her slightly opened mouth, sliding his tongue between her parted lips. Their tongues mated frantically as her hand released his cock and entangled itself in his hair pulling hard.

Breaking the kiss, Damian pushed her back on the not-to-soft corn husk mattress that was covered by a rough feeling cotton sheet. Holding her hands above her head with his hands, he leaned down and captured a nub between his teeth, tugging hard, causing her to gasp. His tongue flicked over the sensitive nipple as he alternated between licking and sucking. Then he moved to the other one. Zelina could feel the hardness of his cock against her mound. Damian released her hands and began to kiss, lick, and suck her way down her body, setting every nerve ending on fire.

Kneeling between her legs, he spread them wide, leaned down and with a feather-like touch of his tongue he ran it up and down her lips. At his touch, her hips began to bounce on the bed as she tried to push her pussy closer to his lips but he held her down against the bed preventing it. Taking his fingers he spread her lips apart, the tip of his tongue dipping inside to taste her honey, slowly moving inward as a pace that was about to drive her mad. Zelina could feel her orgasm slowly building up in her inner core.

Suddenly he grasped her engorged clit between his teeth, gently sucking on it, causing a trickle of her juices to start to run out and down his fingers.

“Oh FUCK!” Zelina screamed as she clawed at the sheet. “I need to cum.”

Damian ignored her pleas to cum and continued with his slow methodical attack on her pussy and clit. Just when she thought she could handle no more, Damian pushed two fingers deep inside, making her shriek in ecstasy as her body started to tremble. He slowly pushed and pulled his two fingers in and out of her pussy and then added a third while he continued to work on her clit. On the edge Zelina’s body started to tighten, then the first ripples of her orgasm began to ravage her body. As she reached the pinnacle and was ready to topple over, he stopped.

“Damn you,” she groaned in frustration as her fingers reached down to finish what he had started.

Damian lightly slapped her hands away and rolled on his back saying, “My turn. Work your magic with that mouth.”

Shakily she crawled over and ran her tongue over the tip of his cock while squeezing his balls. Running her tongue down the front and up the backside of his cock several times, stopping each time to suck the head and run her tongue under the rim. On the last trip down Zelina sucked a ball into her mouth, running her tongue over it and sucking on it, and then she moved to the other one while using her free hand to grip his cock and stroke it. She could soon hear his breathing deepen and quicken. As Zelina sucked his balls she could feel them start to tighten and knew he was on the verge of losing his load.

Pulling back and sitting on her heels, she stared at him and licked her lips. At this point, if she had been back in her time she would have mounted his ridged cock and rode the cum out of him but she was not sure in this time period just how bold she should be. Throwing caution to the wind, Zelina moved to mount him like a stallion but Damian stopped her.

“First, I want to taste your juices as you cum and then you can ride me,” he told her, almost as if he was reading her mind.

Positioning herself over his face, Damian grabbed her by hips and bit her on her labia, then pushed his tongue inside as he squeezed her ass tight. Leaning forward she went back to work on his cock. This time she took him in her mouth, her lips clamping him tight like her pussy was going to do when they fucked. To Zelina’s surprise, she felt Damian’s tongue leave her pussy and make it way up the crack of her ass, the tip of his tongue teasing the little hole, and then move back to her pussy. As Damian tongue-fucked her, he caught her clit between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it. His right hand let go of her ass cheek and then she felt a finger slid into her ass.

Zelina was trying hard to concentrate on what she was doing to Damian but it was not easy as her orgasm was ready to burst out of her body. Unable to hold back any longer Zelina let his cock drop from her mouth as she howled loudly, her orgasm exploding from every part of her body. Zelina’s pussy began to spasm and her ass gripped his finger tight as she gushed and squirted her honey juices all over Damian’s face. Her body shook and trembled, her mind going blank as she drifted off into a blissful orgasmic high unlike any she had ever experienced. It seemed to last forever and when she started to come down her entire body went limp, collapsing onto his chest.

After giving her a couple of minutes rest, Damian said, “My turn.”

Slowly moving off his chest she straddled him and eased herself down on his rigid cock, feeling her pussy stretching as she took him in. Gripping him with her pussy Zelina began to move up and down, reaching behind them to squeeze his balls. Damian reached up and started to tweak her nipples, pinching them hard.

“Ride me like a wild stallion,” Damian said as he pushed up against her sopping pussy, trying to get in as deep as he could.

Releasing her breast, his right hand moved between their bodies to find her clit while his other hand continued to alternate between her nipples. As they both neared their orgasm their breathing started to become heavier and a bit ragged. Without warning, Zelina found herself being flipped over until she was on the bottom, Pulling her legs over his shoulders bending her almost in half Damian began to pound her pussy with hard deep thrusts.

As another earth-shattering orgasm started to rip through her body Damian captured her lips with his, kissing her hard as he pushed in hard and deep, his seed spilling inside of her, so much it started to leak out and puddle on the bed. Giving two more hard thrusts Damian let her legs drop back to the bed and rolled over, pulling her against him, kissing her on the forehead.

“Welcome home Zelina.”

Laying there, snuggled in his arms she thought to herself, ‘Time travel might not be so bad at all.’