No, this story is not about groupie plaster castor at a glam rock concert getting the rooster and testis in poultice of a sway star they fucked. Nor is it about going backstage at a theatrical performance of a highly sexual sport, although elements of such drama are in this story.

It was a simple sign in the woodwind instrument,"offstage Pass ”. I had cycled to the end of a timberland track, an old rail bed, and found a gate blocking the trail, presumably erected there by a prop proprietor jealous of his privacy. The gate was flanked by bristled wire fencing that stretched away into the mixed hardwood bush on both sides as far as the eye could see.

However, off to the right of the gate, nailed to a sapling, was the signaling :"Backstage pass ”. Intriguing. Mysterious. Beside the sapling was a lead : narrow, overgrown, and covered with autumn folio, but a discernible track. Was this another way into the buck private property of the logic gate possessor, a privileged porta into a special human race buried oceanic abyss in the rolling hardwood vale ? Was the"pass"like a mountain pass, a gap in the rooftree of land covered with forest that ran away from the bike track on both incline, a pass that led to something magical ?

It was too much for my rummy nature. I mounted my bicycle and set off on the track through the woods. For a way, it ran parallel to the barbed conducting wire fence along the valley. But the res publica began to rise, and I was forced off the bike and into a engross walk up the winding course, slipping on the wet leaves, around trees and through opening and over John Rock covered with moss.

A tortuous declension to the valley floor led me back to the fence again, and there on the early slope was a clutch of little construction. Two cabins of harsh planks, one orotund than the other, faced each other at Angle across a flat open space. Behind the construction were two outhouses, also of rough plank. Set in the hill behind the buildings were broad wooden planks that served as seating. It was a little theater of operations in the Sir Henry Wood.

Intrigued, I leaned my bike against a Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree and took photos of the construction beyond the fence with my cell earpiece. Then I heard the voices.

I froze, listening. Men's voices, coming from up on the ridge beyond the edifice, getting louder. If I retreated up the ridge behind me, they would surely spot me. I grabbed the bike and wheeled it into a cedar thicket near the fence, laying it flat in the silent needles on the ground. Crouching behind an old oak at the border of the cedar brush, I could see the niggling buildings clearly.

Into the clearing came two men carrying between them a canvass bedding like the ones used for Wilderness rescue when person has broken a leg and needs to be carried out to refuge. Strapped to the litter was a miss of about eighteen with long brownness wavelike hair and dressed in a United States Navy risque track suit. She was asleep, or unconscious, concentrated to say which. She certainly was not moving, eyes closed, but I heard the episodic groan so I knew she was alive.

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

"Yeah, commodity architectural plan,"agreed the other one."We won't even wait for Bill to get back."He guffawed and started to unbrace the shoulder strap that held the young woman to the litter.

I had just started to process the fact that there was another man out there, bill, when a twig snapped behind me. I whirled around to retrieve the muzzle of an robotlike shooting iron pointed at my face. Behind the gun was the grizzled grimace of a man about my age, sixtyish, magniloquent, well built and well dressed in outdoor clothing, but severe 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 litter and walked toward the fence.

"Who's there, bill ?"the one asked who wasn't going to hold off for Bill.

"A snoop,"said Bill shortly and waved the gun 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 early two also had arm pointed at me."Okay,"said Bill."scratch talking. Who are you and why are you here ? ”.

I was scared and could see no point in trying to score up a level to bluff my way out."I'm a cyclist, out for some practice, that's all,"I said, making eye contact with Bill so he could see how solemn I was."I saw that sign,"wing Pass ”, and took the trail just to see where it led. I didn't mean 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 woodwind, away from prying eyes, I get turned on. My libido goes into overuse. I have all these depraved and orgiastic sex phantasy about what I would do to a woman in a little cabin like that."I nodded to the cabin across the fence.

broadside stared at me for a tenacious mo, then lowered his arm as he raised his eyebrows."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 true."Oh, anything I wanted, I guess. I'd tie her up and fuck her, then whip her mamilla and cunt, then fuck her again. I'd take slews of television so I could have stack of beneficial wank 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 kidnap 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 dainty if she liked it and wanted to save doing it, a sort of Mother Nature fuck bunny, but woman aren't built like that these days. feminist movement and all that crap."

The man who was going to wait for Bill guffawed at that and tucked his arm into his pouch. He was of metier stature, lxv I'd guess, and somewhat overweight. His bespectacled nerve below a bald pate was jowly and his paunch hung over his belt a bit. I learned later his name was Harold."A female parent Nature fuck bunny,"he repeated."I like that, beak. I think this guy is OK."

The early man, slight of build and also balding with a Zane Grey trimmed beard, picked up on this."I don't know, Harold. Can we bank this guy ? What do you think, beak ?"

peak 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 retired college prof. I go out on the bike around the county because I have a heart condition and have to exercise."I scuffed in the folio a bit."Besides, I like riding the motorcycle and I like to explore new places, veil places, only this clock time I got myself in a jam."I looked up at Bill."What are you going to do with me ?"

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

bank 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 prosperous way to chance out. We have a gem here now, so let's get Phillip on television camera doing her, fucking her and beating her tits. Then he can't go the fuzz without implicating himself, can he ?"

I found later they liked calling the girls they abducted"muffins ”. The gem on the litter started to moan and roll her optic under the palpebra."She's coming out of the anesthetic. We have to hurry,"said Slim, whose name 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 love the answer.

"We'll have to portion out with you, won't we ?"said nib.

Harold on the other 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 want to do dirty stuff in the woods, show us. Now."

I nodded. I had all the answers and all the motive I needed .