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This marvelous experience happened a couple of months ago when my wife Laura and I were at a rock concert at our favorite club. We hade gone there to see a local band that had gotten some hype in the press, and as we both like to go out and listen to music, this club had been a kind of favorite place. What's more, the new management of the club had consistently arranged good concerts, so it was almost as if you could go there no matter what band played there.
We were far from alone in discovering this, so the club was crowded. Wild assortments of more or less black-clad youths were in there shouting, screaming and jumping even before the band had even started. And then there were we, or so it felt. Both above thirty, we had started to feel a slight reservation against our younger fellows, even though we had been among them only a couple of years ago. Still, we liked to wear black clothes; "Black goes with everything - at least everything black" I think Neil Gaiman once said. How true. And, being steady visitors, we had found what we thought was the perfect spot in the club to watch the concert. Almost at the far back, right next to a supporting pillar, we got a good view of the scene while still staying a bit on our own. Right next to us, no one would stand, as that space was blocked by the mixer table a bit further up front.
So there we stood as the concert began. After a few songs, we realized that this band was worth the hype: they were really good. The other audience caught on as well, and soon the front rows were jumping and swaying more than ever. From our secluded spot, we could still enjoy the concert like we wanted, without getting disturbed.
Still, the beer ran through me, and halfway through the concert I realized I had to go to the men's room. I leaned against my wife, told her and gave her a quick kiss. Then I left.
As usual, there was a queue, so I had to wait a while to finish my job, and then went straight back to my wife. It all took about five minutes, give or take a few. Standing right next to her, whispered to her that I was back. She looked to me in astonishment, "Just now?" she said.
I got a bit baffled by that response. "Yeah, why?" She looked over the shoulder. "Are you sure?" "No, come to think about it, I peed in my pants right here - of course I'm sure!" Laura is in no way stupid, so I couldn't understand why she would ask such a dumb question. A quick smile ran over her face at my answer before she returned to the area of concern. "Then ... Then who's been caressing me the whole time?" That made me even more astonished. "You mean touching you? Well, not I, for certain. I would have loved to, but as I said, had 'prior arrangements'" "You're kidding me!" she smiled at me, but when she saw my face, she knew it was true - and I saw in her face that she wasn't joking, either. "Somebody started stroking me along my back almost just after you were gone, in a good way. I thought it was you getting back really soon, so I 'encouraged' it." "So you liked it?" I asked. "Yeah, but only because I thought it was you. He - it must have been a he - ran his thumb along my spine just like you use to do, and after a while ran his fingers along my sides." She seemed warmed only by thinking of it, even now when she knew it had been a stranger. The band started playing a new song, and we both quieted to return to the music. I immediately caught on and would have forgotten the whole strange situation if it wasn't for Laura tugging me quietly in the arm after only half of the song. "It's started again!" she said as silent as she could. "Somebody is caressing my back" I immediately glanced behind her, and saw it was true. Someone was gently stroking my wife along her spine down towards her butt. I saw that it was a he, but he was wearing a hooded jacket, so I could not make out who it was. My first reaction was naturally to say to this guy to go stuff himself somewhere, but then I saw my wife's expression, and saw that she had closed her eyes. She was enjoying it! Right there, the devil (or my inner voice) told me to hold a little. Instead, I asked my wife if I should make him stop.
"Hmm? Not for my sake" was the answer. "If you want to, then do it" I decided to let our secret companion go on for a while. "Tell me when you want him to stop, then" "Yeah..." she answered, sounding dreamy. She clearly didn't mind somebody other than me touching her in public! I had a quick thought if I should get angry over her reaction, but thought that if I hadn't gotten angry about it by now, there would be no reason to try to find a 'logical' anger. That's when I decided to raise the stakes. "Alright, I'll let him go on. But you've got to do something for me: tell me what he's doing to you - I can't stand watch it" "Uhm ... right" she said while holding I moan as I took one step forward. So there I stood, only one step in front of my wife, trying to look as if I watched the concert, while I secretly tried to listen to every sound from behind. The other crowd just in front of me hadn't noticed, at least. "He's caressing my bum now," my wife told me soon after, "with both hands. Oh, that's goood..." I tensed a little more, imagining the stranger's hands on my wife's lovely bottom. "My hips, that's right," she said into the air. I know it sounds ridiculous considering being at a rock concert, but I could almost swear I heard skin moving over the thin dress covering those lovely hips.
Not long after, the next step was taken; "Oh, my god!" I heard my wife say, and I turned my head to look. What I saw almost made intervene. The stranger's hands were moving in front of my wife now, and what's more, he had moved up closed behind her. He was now standing right behind her, with his still covered face right next to hers. It seemed he was breathing towards her ear. But when I looked at my wife and saw the pleasured look on here, it was nothing I could do. With eyes still closed, and breathing heavily, she expressed true delight.
The stranger became more and more straightforward. "Ahhh ... He's on to my breasts now!" my wife almost shouted. And true to her word, both hands cupped and squeezed her breasts from outside her dress, before slowly moving down her chest and belly. My wife expressed lovely little sighs of pleasure all time, each one of them taking away some of the angst I felt for watching somebody being on her. At her belly, the hands circled there for a while in larger and larger circles that soon got to cover both hips and upper parts of the pubic area.
It didn't take long before the stranger found that the buttons up front of my wife's belly easily could be opened. One by one in a rapid way, he opened them at the tummy and the hands dove into bare skin. "Mmmm..." Laura said, not aware that I looked at her, "He's opened my dress!"
Let me pause here for a moment to describe that lovely piece of clothing Laura was wearing that evening: all black, as I had said, it was a one-part dress with buttons up front down to the waist and ending in a tight skirt going down half her thighs. It was one of her more beautiful, and made a perfect match with her body. (I'll come to why I'm describing it in imperfect.)
The stranger seemed to become more and more eager at what treasure he had found, and wanted to get more of it. So, the rest of the buttons all they way up to the hem were quickly parted, and with that, Laura's torso and bra became visible from underneath. The hands didn't stay one moment outside, and soon only the thin fabric of bra was the only thing between them and the breasts.
Laura gasped and opened her eyes, immediately catching mine. The true pleasure in those wide-open green jewels blew away the only part of me that was agony of this sight; seeing my wife having the time of her life - even if it was in the hands of a stranger - gave me instant joy and excitement. She looked me in the eyes all the time while the stranger fondled her, step by step exposing her beautiful body. At that moment, I think I somewhere realized that this was going too far; no way this was ordinary 'making out' - this guy didn't know how to stop. But when I tried to amass some strength and take control of the situation, I found that I couldn't. Perhaps the scene was too beautiful or my wife expressing too much joy. Perhaps I secretly had dreamed of such a scene, with my wife being slowly uncovered in front of me. All the folk around us didn't matter one bit right now.
Because that was what was happening: the bra's clasps were at the front, and the stranger took advantage of that soon enough. With expert's swiftness, the bra was opened and my wife's breasts got free of their 'prison'. For a second, I could enjoy those lovely shapes in the soft light of the club as the hands parted the dress and bra that still partly covered them.
.... There is more of this story ...