No, this storey is not about groupie sticking plaster casters at a glam rock concert getting the dick and balls in plasterwork of a rock star they fucked. Nor is it about going offstage at a theatrical performance of a highly sexual play, although constituent of such drama are in this story.

It was a simple sign in the woodwind instrument,"Backstage crack ”. I had cycled to the end of a woodland trail, an old rail bed, and found a gate blocking the trail, presumably erected there by a belongings proprietor jealous of his seclusion. The gate was flanked by barbed wire fencing that stretched away into the mingle hardwood bush on both sides as far as the eye could see.

However, off to the rightfield of the gate, nailed to a sapling, was the sign :"Backstage Pass ”. Intriguing. Mysterious. Beside the sapling was a trail : narrow, overgrown, and covered with fall leafage, but a discernible trail. Was this another way into the common soldier holding of the gate owner, a privileged opening into a special world buried deep in the rolling hardwood valley ? Was the"pass"like a mountain pass, a gap in the ridges of land covered with woods that ran away from the bike lead on both sides, a pass that led to something charming ?

It was too much for my curious nature. I mounted my bike and set off on the lead through the forest. For a way, it ran parallel to the barbed wire fence along the valley. But the soil began to rise, and I was forced off the bike and into a soak up walk up the twisty path, slipping on the wet leaves, around tree diagram and through interruption and over rock-and-roll covered with moss.

A tortuous descent to the vale flooring led me back to the fence again, and there on the other slope was a clutch of piddling building. Two cabins of jumpy planks, one larger than the other, faced each other at angles across a flat open air space. Behind the building were two jakes, also of rough plank. Set in the Alfred Hawthorne behind the buildings were encompassing wooden board that served as tooshie. It was a trivial theatre in the woodwind.

Intrigued, I leaned my bike against a tree and took photo of the building beyond the fencing with my electric cell phone. Then I heard the voices.

I froze, listening. Men's voices, coming from up on the ridge beyond the buildings, getting louder. If I retreated up the ridgeline behind me, they would surely spot me. I grabbed the wheel and wheeled it into a cedar coppice near the fence, laying it flat in the silent needles on the undercoat. Crouching behind an old oak at the edge of the cedar brushwood, I could see the piddling buildings clearly.

Into the clarification came two men carrying between them a canvas litter like the ones used for Wilderness delivery when someone has broken a leg and needs to be carried out to safety. Strapped to the litter was a girl of about eighteen with long John Brown wavy hair and dressed in a United States Navy blue track courting. She was asleep, or unconscious mind, intemperate to say which. She certainly was not moving, middle closed, but I heard the occasional moan so I knew she was alive.

"Let's get her inside and stripped,"one said."I want to do her at least twice before the sun goes down and we have to get her back and dump her."

"Yeah, good program,"agreed the other one."We won't even hold off for banknote to get back."He guffawed and started to unlace the shoulder strap that held the little girl to the litter.

I had just started to action the fact that there was another man out there, notice, when a sprig snapped behind me. I whirled around to ascertain the muzzle of an automatic handgun pointed at my cheek. Behind the gun was the grizzled face of a man about my age, sixtyish, tall, well built and well dressed in out-of-door clothing, but good in demeanour.

"Who are you and what are you doing here ?"he said calmly but loudly enough that the others heard. They set down the bedding material and walked toward the fence.

"Who's there, bank bill ?"the one asked who wasn't going to wait for account.

"A snoop,"said Bill shortly and waved the gun barrel at me, indicating I was to get up and go toward the fence where the others waited.

When I got there, I found the other two also had weapon system pointed at me."Okay,"said Bill."Start talking. Who are you and why are you here ? ”.

I was scared and could see no point in time in trying to make up a report to bluff my way out."I'm a cyclist, out for some physical exertion, that's all,"I said, making eye contact with neb so he could see how earnest I was."I saw that sign,"Backstage Pass ”, and took the trail just to see where it led. I didn't mean value to intrude. I was just scared when I heard you coming so I took cover."

"Why didn't you just keep riding when you heard us ?"one asked roughly.

It was a good question, and again I felt that honesty was the only way I was going to get out of this. I dug deep into my psyche, took a breath, and said,"Out here in the Ellen Price Wood, away from prying oculus, I get turned on. My libido goes into overdrive. I have all these depraved and orgiastic sex fantasies about what I would do to a charwoman in a little cabin like that."I nodded to the cabin across the fence.

placard stared at me for a long bit, then lowered his weapon as he raised his eyebrow."Really ? ”, he said."And what, exactly, would you do to her ?"

I knew then that I was on the right track, so I kept on being honest."Oh, anything I wanted, I guess. I'd tie her up and fuck her, then whip her tits and kitty-cat, then fuck her again. I'd take spate of video so I could have pot of right hand job when I got home."

"Why don't you do that, then ?"he asked.

"Practical job,"I answered."I don't know anyone who would help me abduct her and I don't know what I would do with her afterward. I wouldn't want to kill her to shut her up. It would be nice if she liked it and wanted to celebrate doing it, a kind of Mother Nature fuck bunny girl, but woman aren't built like that these daylight. feminism and all that crap."

The man who was going to wait for banker's bill guffawed at that and tucked his arm into his pocket. He was of medium stature, sixty-five I'd shot, and somewhat overweight. His bespectacled cheek below a bald pate was jowly and his paunch hung over his belt ammunition a bit. I learned later his figure was Harold."A female parent Nature fuck bunny girl,"he repeated."I like that, Bill. I think this guy is OK."

The early man, slight of form and also balding with a grey trimmed beard, picked up on this."I don't know, Harold. Can we trust this guy ? What do you think, broadsheet ?"

Bill looked at me carefully again."What's your name ?"he asked.

"It's Phillip,"I said."I live over in Lyndhurst, and I'm a go to sleep college professor. I go out on the bike around the county because I have a bosom condition and have to exercise."I scuffed in the leaves a bit."Besides, I like riding the bike and I like to explore new places, hidden places, only this time I got myself in a jam."I looked up at Bill."What are you going to do with me ?"

Bill looked over at the other two. Harold nodded, a leer on his face. The other one with the beard frowned and shook his nous slightly."Can we trust him ?"he asked.

Bill looked at me and back to Slim."I don't know,"he said slowly,"but he sounds like he could be one of us. But there's an well-fixed way to find out. We have a muffin here now, so let's get Phillip on camera doing her, fucking her and beating her boob. Then he can't go the cop without implicating himself, can he ?"

I found later they liked calling the girls they abducted"gem ”. The muffin on the litter started to moan and roll her eyes under the lid."She's coming out of the anesthetic. We have to travel rapidly,"said Slim, whose public figure I found later was Alastair.

Bill turned to me."Are you in ?"he asked shortly with a direct stare.

"And if I don't do this ?"I asked, not really wanting to do it the result.

"We'll have to deal with you, won't we ?"said card.

Harold on the former side of the fence scuffed the ground with his toe and said,"We've had to do it before, but it's no fun."Looking at me, he said,"If you really need to do dirty stuff in the Sir Henry Wood, show us. Now."

I nodded. I had all the response and all the motif I needed .