Warning - I like reconciliation stories. If you're looking for burning bitches, willing cuckolds, consensual swinging, wife-sharing or detailed sex scenes, you're wasting your time with this story. Like with my other stories. I'm a German and writing in a foreign language might cause some grammar errors in my story.
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Finally, it's Saturday. My wife Ashley and I are at the rock concert we've been looking forward to for such a long time. Tickets were almost impossible to get. But by pulling in some favors I had finally managed to get some, to Ashley's great delight. I was extremely well rewarded for it, so who am I to complain? And whenever she really wants something, it's hard not to do everything to fulfill her wish.
The reason is - my wife is hot, really hot. At least I think so and the wide-eyed stares and open mouths of many other males tell me that they tend to agree. To make things worse - or better, depending on your point of view - she has a knockout body and is not reluctant to show it off. And currently she wears a short top, ultra short hot pants and shows off a bare, tight midriff. Talk about drop dead gorgeous. I have problems to follow the proceedings on stage without being too distracted by her. And I'm proud to see that other men and even some women seem to have the same problem. Tough luck, guys. She's mine.
How attractive a particular man appears in a woman's eyes has always been a complete mystery to me. Whenever I've tried to judge other men in that regard when talking to Ash, I've failed miserably. "Hey, that guy must be eye candy for women, right?" "Danny, seriously? Only with a towel on his face." So I'm not too sure about my own attractiveness as well. I tend to be cautious in such things, trying not to be overconfident. But I also believe that I can't be overly ugly if she's chosen me. And the behavior other women in my presence has helped to confirm this assumption. And I'm certain that Ash loves me. So I tend to feel quite relaxed and safe when other guys are hitting on her. Which happens most of the time. To be more precise, it happens all the time. It has to be very annpying for her and I admire how friendly she manages to be when elegantly brushing the twentieth guy off.
We're deeply in love with each other and we're both absolutely certain that we will grow old together. So we've decided that we're too young for children and we will have plenty of time for that later. As a result we enjoy our carefree life immensely right now. Ash has just lost her job because the company went bankrupt but it's no problem as I earn enough for both of us. And we're quite certain that she'll have a new job in no time. So it doesn't worry us at all.
Right now, we've finally made it to the front row. I don't like it here very much, there's too much pressure. Exchanging sweat with smelly, frantically moving people is not my idea of a good time. But Ash adores Jimmy - the lead singer - and wants to see him as closely as possible. I'm not jealous or concerned, as one of the world's most famous rock stars he's as accessible as the moon for her. And I think moving to the front row has at least one advantage. The nearer you come, the more you realize that he's actually rather unattractive and unremarkable. At least in my opinion. Which might be flawed, as I've explained earlier.
But I like their music and I'm trying my best to have a reasonably good time despite the circumstances, while Ash is really freaking out, dancing and cheering like mad. She's not even noticing the occasional weirdo using the situation to rub a little against her body. I have to shoot some - ususally successful - warning glances from time to time.
Jimmy is currently busy with one of their slow songs. He's standing quite close to us when he notices Ash and starts looking at her all the time. He even points at her and she waves back, smiling happily. Yeah, man. Dream on. She's mine.
Suddenly, two massive security guys appear and lift her over the barrier. Hey, wait. This is no fun any more. I'm suddenly quite alarmed. But Ash is delighted and blows me a kiss while she is led along the small open space in front of the stage.
"Hey, wait," I scream! But no one hears me, it's way too loud.
I try to follow her over the barrier, but two other security goons stop me roughly. I try to tell them that she's my wife but they don't even listen. I feel powerless and humiliated.
I try to leave the hall, which takes me an eternity. Getting through the crowd is like being in one of these underwater dreams where you're unable to move, except in some kind of slow motion. I finally reach an exit and run around outside, confused and trying to find some kind of backstage entrance. It takes me another eternity to find it and I see that there's already a big group of girls assembled, hoping to get a glimpse of Jimmy and his band. I knock on the door like a madman, but no one answers. The young groupies look at me like I'm completely nuts. Which is not too far from the truth.
I send her a text message. "Where are you? Are you okay?"
No response.
I try to phone her all the time. No one answers.
Okay, just wait, I decide. Try to breathe normally. She will appear sooner or later. I try, rather unsuccessfully, to calm down a little.
I wait for endless hours at the backstage entrance, being worried shitless. The concert is long over. The place is silent and deserted by now, the wind blows garbage across the empty expanse of concrete. I'm completely alone and the concert hall lights are mostly turned off. Not a single person has come through the damn door. Obviously, it's just a bogus to distract the fans. Shit.
The morning finally dawns, still no message from Ash.
Finally, at about seven, I receive a text message. "im ok dont worry"
I immediately try to call her, but my call is blocked. I text her "Ash, please call me. I'm worried sick. I'm still outside the concert hall." No answer.
So, without seeing an alternative course of action, I finally go home. But I'm desperate and I can't sleep. I just wander around in the apartment restlessly, texting and calling her all the time. But her phone is obviously switched off.
At about eleven, my doorbell rings. I jump up. Ash! Finally. I'm overjoyed.
But to my dismay, two of the band's filthy security goons are standing there with a kind of list.
"Sorry, buddy. We're here to pick up her stuff. We have a list. Stay calm and you won't be harmed."
"Where is she?"
"Probably fucking somebody. She's a hot fuck. Everybody had their turn on her. The band, the staff, we security guys. She will be quite loose when she returns. If she returns." They both laugh.
I feel absolutely broken and humiliated, trying not to cry in front of these assholes. They are busy collecting everything on their list and feel right at home while they're doing it. After a few minutes they are finished and leave without another word. I'm still stunned.
My phone rings. It's Ash, finally.
"Ash. Where are you? When will you come home to me?"
"Danny, sorry, I will stay with the band until the tour ends."
"Ashley, you're leaving me?"
"No, dummy, of course not. I'll just accompany them for a while. Afterwards I'll be yours again."
"Ashley, these two guys that picked up your stuff told me that everybody has fucked you. Band, staff, security. They humiliated me. Are you cheating on me?"
"Oh, they did? They were instructed to be tactful. They will be in trouble. Jimmy won't accept that."
"Ashley, answer my question."
"Of course I have sex. I'm a groupie now. But only the band is fucking me."
"Ashley! You can't so that! We're married. How long will this go on?"
"The tour will and in December."
"Ashley, that's four months."
"Yes."
"Ashley, I can't accept that, we're married. You're cheating in the worst possible way."
"Sorry, honey. It's the chance of a lifetime for me. I'll make it up to you. Gotta run, see you."
And the line is dead. Shit. I've just lost my wife. In a cold way she has left me for a bunch of ugly rock stars. I start to cry a little, feeling lost and lonely. It has all been too quick and without warning. My perfect life has turned into a pile of horseshit within a few hours.
Shortly afterwards I receive a text message. "hon don't be mad. i'm still yours."
Again, I pace around in the apartment. I'm sad. I'm humiliated. I'm desperate. My wife has just been taken from me. Plucked like an apple from a tree. And there's nothing I can do about it.
