Apparently I wasn't clandestine enough."I'm not wearing a skirt." Yes, you are," said Brittany."Yeah," said Jamie."You are," said April."It'll fit you," said Emily.That was how I found myself in front of the bathroom mirror in Brittany's tank top and Emily's skirt that went only to just above my knees. It was too short. Brittany tried a tube top on me but since I have no tits (thankfully!), it didn't work. I didn't feel any better in her tank top. Jamie and Miranda applied make-up to me. April wanted to make me a goth but the other girls wouldn't hear it. I was glad about that.I'm sure they would never be able to get me in such ridiculous clothes if it wasn't for all the hands that massaged my hard-on and the girls' allowance for me to grope their tits and rub their pussies. The sacrifices a teen boy must make! Yeah, it was for sex. Okay, I can see how maybe it was not a sacrifice. I would do about anything for more sex with these girls. The afternoon couldn't come soon enough so I. The gate was flanked by barbed 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 sign: “Backstage Pass”. Intriguing. Mysterious. Beside the sapling was a trail: narrow, overgrown, and covered with autumn leaves, but a discernible trail. Was this another way into the private property of the gate owner, a privileged opening into a special world buried deep in the rolling hardwood vales? Was the “pass” like a mountain pass, a gap in the ridges of land covered with forest that ran away from the bike trail on both sides, a pass that led to something magical?It was too much for my curious nature. I mounted my bike and set off on the trail through the woods. For a way, it ran parallel to the barbed wire fence along the valley. But the land began to rise, and I was forced off the bike and into a steep walk up the winding path, slipping on the wet leaves, around.
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