by Hank Wilder
“Did you like that, baby?” my husband questions. “Did you like watching rollerboy get fucked by another man?”
“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this but… yeah,” I reply.
Aaron smiles. “Good, because we’re not even halfway home and I’m still very, very horny.”
ROCKER
15
People go through a lot of phases throughout the course of their lives, and that’s just fine. It might seem disingenuous on the surface, but really it makes a lot of sense. We’re always growing and changing, trying to stand out in the crowd while simultaneously doing everything we can to fit in. It’s an exhausting and complicated way of drifting through our time here on Earth, but we make it work.
Most people experience these phases and learn a little something with each one. Eventually, these various sides of a single personality tend to even out and find a middle ground, and by the time we’ve matured into fully-fledged adults there’s no more easy categories to be lumped into. Instead, you have a fleshed out personality that defies stereotypes.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to trash talk my husband right now, but I’d be lying if I pretended he’s not utterly stuck in the past. It’s one thing to listen to the music you loved in high school, but it’s something else to still completely inhabit the lifestyle.
My husband, Gabe, is grunge. Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the absolute truth, and when you see it for yourself you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. For everyone else, the 1990s came and went, bringing with them a slew of hot new bands and a disaffected fashion sense. It stuck around while we enjoyed the tunes with unintelligible lyrics and the festivals and the music videos that used to play on television instead of a tiny phone or computer.
But, like all things, time moves forward and carries us onto the next phase of our life. As the new millennium rolled around, culture began to change, and do did I.
My husband, on the other hand, did not.
When I arrive home from work I find the house completely empty, but not at all that silent as the faint sound of hammering rock and roll echoes out from the garage. I creep forward and slowly open up the door, peering out to find my husband deeply focused on the task at hand. He’s running a printing press, using it to decorate a single white shirt with a design of his own making.
To be honest, the whole operation is incredibly impressive, and the effort he puts in to making just one piece of clothing is worth smiling over. I love my husband, I really do.
Gabe doesn’t notice me at first, swiping on his second layer of color with expert precision. He lays down a third, as well, and is stepping back to admire his job well done when he finally notices me standing in the doorway. My husband immediately waves and then strolls over to his nearby radio, turning down the sound of crushing power chords.
“Pete!” my husband cries out, strolling over me and removing a pair of paint covered gloves as he goes.
My husband tosses his gloves to the side and then wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight as he plants a loving kiss on my cheek.
“How was work, baby?” my husband questions.
“Good, good,” I reply. “The Hendricks case is really coming together well. We had another witness come forward today.”
The second I start getting into the legal minutia of my day at the office I can see the light fade out of Gabe’s gorgeous eyes. He’s trying his best to stay interested in what I’m saying, to give himself over as a loving partner, but it’s just not happening despite his best efforts.
If I was talking about some slamming new band I heard over the weekend, or better yet, the reunion show of some legendary 90s super group, he’s be all ears. Little do I know, my husband is already way ahead of me.
“What’s the new shirt say?” I question.
My husband unlocks his silkscreen machine and pulls the fabric forth, holding it up to see.
“Green Ghost fan since day one,” I read aloud.
My husband nods excitedly.
Green Ghost is one of the more overlooked acts from the good old days of the grunge explosion, but for a connoisseur of the genre like my husband, they’re one of the musical pinnacles of that time period. In fact, if I had to guess, I’d say Green Ghost is my husband’s favorite band.
“What brought that on?” I continue, “you just diving back into their catalog lately/”
Suddenly, Gabe’s expression changes from one of excitement, to confusion. “Wait, You don’t know?” my husband questions.
“Know what?” I reply, shaking my head from side to side.
Seconds later, Gabe is brimming with excitement, trying his best to hold it together but failing miserably. “Green Ghost got back together! They’re playing a reunion show in Seattle this weekend.”
“Seattle?” I retort with a chuckle. “What are you gonna do, fly there?”
My husband just stares at me, a deep seriousness in his expression.
“Oh shit,” I blurt. “You’re actually gonna fly there this weekend aren’t you?”
Gabe nods. “And you’re coming with me.”
I take a deep breath and let it out, considering my options. I’m utterly exhausted after a long work week, and honestly the last thing I’d like to do is board a plane to some far away city, but I also feel like it would be nice to spend some time with Gabe. Despite our differences, I absolutely love him, and lately my job has been keeping our meaningful moments quite sparse.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You really, really want to go to this show, huh?” I observe, more of a statement than a question.
Gabe nods. “Oh, I wasn’t joking about the two of us going,” he retorts, then reaches into his pocket to pull out two printed tickets.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Something tells me there’s going to be an unexpected charge on my credit card this month.”
“Maybe,” my husband offers coyly. “I can always return them if you want.”
“No, no, no,” I continue, focused now. “I wanna go.”
My husband looks a little dumbfounded by my words, narrowing his eyes at me as though there must be some kind of catch following shortly behind. When one never comes, a smile begins to creep its way across his face.
“Baby!” Gabe cries out, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me deeply on the mouth. I can feel his slowly reach down and start to rub across the front of my pants. “You know I’ll make it up to you.”
“I can’t wait,” I inform him.
In my younger days I went to plenty of shows, and I’m no stranger to a raucous night on the town with loud music and wild men. However, it’s been a long while since I’ve actually occupied this kind of space with my own body, seen the sights with my own eyes.
I feel strange and out of place as my husband and I stand here outside the club, waiting in line for the doors to finally open up and the people to start pouring in.
Until then, I get a chance to gaze around at the other patrons who are somehow also willing to stand out here in the cold.
I be perfectly frank, I wouldn’t expect any of these grunge super fans to have all that much going for them, but as my eyes linger across the line of rock and rollers I’m a little shocked at just how attractive everyone is. Maybe it’s just something they put in the water up here in Seattle.
When I glance over at my husband, I notice he’s checking out the crowd as well, only his eyes seem to be particularly focused on a man who stands about ten feet in front of us. My gaze dances back and forth between my husband and this grunged up stranger, not sure if this is a moment of recognition or something more.
“Do you know him?” I finally ask.
My husband jumps as I say this, completely taken off guard by my question as I break through his deep trance. “What?”
“Do you know him?” I repeat. “You’re looking at that guy like you know him.”
My husband shakes his head, suddenly realizing something and then trying his best t
o act natural. Of course, this reaction comes just a little too late, and I’ve already realized what’s going on.
“You think he’s cute, huh?” I question.
“Of course not!” my husband blurts in response.
Obviously, this is the answer I expected, but whether or not it’s true is another story entirely. My husband and I are very open when it comes to communication in our relationship, and have frequently discussed other people being attractive, but in this particular case his natural instinct to hide is getting the best of him. He wouldn’t be acting this way if there weren’t something very potent bubbling up inside of him.
“You sure about that?” I question.
My husband is frozen now, realizing he’s been caught and not quite sure whether the best course of action is to double down on denial or to admit the truth. He holds like this for quite a while and then finally breaks, rolling his eyes as his body relaxes.
“Okay, fine. He’s super cute,” Gabe sighs.
I glance back over at the guy in his black leather jacket, taking him in as I try to discern what exactly my husband is so attracted to. I mean, he’s clearly a good-looking man, but he doesn’t seem to fit the bill for some reason.
“He doesn’t seem like your type,” I finally offer.
My husband just gives me an awkward look. “What do you mean?” he questions.
“Well, he looks nothing like me,” I continue.
Gabe and I just stand for a moment as the words begin to sink in. I’m hit with a variety of different realizations, some of them more powerful than others as they come to me in a series of steps.
Obviously, my husband loves me, but I now see that our differences truly are pronounced in a way that is very apparent. Of course he’d be interested in this rough and tumble man.
“Oh, yeah,” I finally blurt.
My husband takes my hand in hers. “Baby, you know I love you, and I love the fact that we’re different from each other. We’ve got a balance in our relationship that’s very sweet. But if we’re just talking about raw, filthy sex, it might be nice to be with a guy like that sometimes.”
Gabe’s words hit me deep in the pit of my stomach, and hearing them would be torture if not for the fact that I know he’s right. Instead, his admission buzzes through my veins with a quiet hum, a steady sensation that spreads out across my body in a slow, menacing wave. I’m overwhelmed with jealousy and anger, doing everything that I can to hold it together.
Strangely, however, these aren’t the only emotions I feel. Along with the negative sensations that continue to slip through my bloodstream, I also find myself overwhelmed by a slight tickle of arousal. At first, I assume this must be some kind of mistake, that my brain is misfiring in some strange and unexplained way and this feeling will quickly pass.
The feeling remains, however, continuing to grow and blossom within me until it actually overtakes the anger.
“Is everything alright?” my husband questions, clearly concerned about his revelation.
“Yeah,” I reply, nodding. “It’s just…” I trail off.
“I’m sorry,” Gabe jumps in. “You know I love you and I love everything that makes us different.”
“No, no,” I retort. “It’s just… I’m surprised how much all this turns me on.”
Gabe just stares at me blankly, not sure if I’m being serious or not. “Really?” he finally questions.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “I really don’t feel threatened by it at all. Maybe because we’re so different? I’m more curious than anything. The idea of watching you with another guy actually kind of… turns me on.”
I can tell that my husband really enjoys hearing this. He’s doing his best to quell any over the top reactions, but he’s having trouble keeping his bottom lip from quivering.
Realizing how quickly this whole thing could get out of control, I consider pulling back on the reins for a moment. Do I really want to let this fantasy become a reality? Do I really want to change the dynamic between my husband and I forever?
As crazy as it sounds, I actually think I do. Despite the fact we’re talking about my husband with another man, there’s something about it that feels like it would only serve to bring Gabe and me even closer together.
“You should try to hit on him,” I finally offer.
My husband smiles and shakes his head bashfully. “Oh baby, that’s okay. It’s sweet of you to be this open, but I don’t want to lead anybody on.”
“Who said anything about leading him on,” I reply mischievously.
Gabe eyes me up skeptically for a moment, then lets out a slight gasp when he realizes that I’m being serious.
My husband’s focus creeps up over my shoulder, arriving on its target and gazing longingly.
I’m shaking now, the emotions that swirl within me almost too much to contain. This whole situation is crazy, but I’m happy to be along for the ride. I feel as though I’m sitting on the top crest of a massive roller coaster, just waiting for the gravity to pull me those first few steps towards the edge and then plummet me down over the other side.
I can feel it coming; feel the inertia taking hold.
“You have my permission,” I tell my husband, very flatly so that he knows I’m being serious.
Gabe lowers his voice and leans in towards me. “What should I do?”
“You’ll think of something,” I tell him. “You’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I don’t think you’ll have any problem.”
My husband smiles and kisses me deeply on the mouth.
Suddenly, there’s a loud metallic clank. We glance over to see the doors of the venue have been opened by two large bouncers, the word security emblazoned across their chest.
“Alright everyone, tickets ready and IDs out!” calls out one of the guards gruffly.
Once the first band starts playing my husband and I make the conscious choice to separate in the crowd. He starts moving towards the stage while I begin to drift back, pulling farther and farther away from the action while Gabe dives into it head first.
I watch his floating through the crowd like someone bobbing up and down in a strange, bubbling current of liquid, disappearing and reappearing at various times until, suddenly, he’s nowhere to be found.
A few minutes later, however, I spot him, pushed up hard against the man we’d spotted in line. My breath catches in my throat as I see them, blown away by this first small step towards bringing our wild idea to fruition.
The two of them are talking with one another, shouting over the music in an effort to communicate. It’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on, but within minutes the man and my husband are pushing back out through the mob of concertgoers, making their way into the shadows and down a hallway beside the stage.
My husband and I make eye contact just as he disappears around the corner.
Immediately, I start to follow, slipping into the darkness of the venue and making my way down this long hallway behind them. Fortunately, the security guards are busy with something else at the moment.
I round a few corners, pushing deeper and deeper into the venue as the music fades away in the distance. Nobody is around.
Eventually, I come to the door of an unused green room, a dim light drifting out from inside. The door is cracked, and within two shadows are moving slightly in the soft light. I step closer and closer, then peer through the crack.
I freeze when I see my husband and this other man embracing passionately, their bodies pushed together as they fervently kiss one another. Despite the fact this act was completely sanctioned by me and discussed in detail just moments earlier, my first reaction is to storm in there and push them away from one another. It takes every bit of discipline I can muster to hold myself back.
“You’re very good with your hands, Nick,” my husband says, revealing the name of his new lover as he runs his fingers across his body, stripping away his clothes.
“Just wait,” Nick teases.
Soon enough, th
e two of them are in nothing but their underwear, continuing to explore the topography of each other’s bodies as I watch in complete awe. My husband’s attention drifts lower and lower across his new lover’s form until, finally, he reaches his waist, hovering here for a moment as he teases him.
I pull my swollen cock forth from its fabric prison, slowly beating myself off as I watch the scene unfold. There’s no turning back now.
“You want me?” my husband coos seductively in Nick’s ear.
The man nods.
“You gonna fuck me better than my husband?” he continues.
Nick nods again.
“Good,” my husband offers, the finally has mercy by reaching within and grabbing ahold of Nick’s massive rod. He pulls him forth and begins to beat the man off as he groans loudly, pumping his hips in time with the movements of my handsome hubby.
Gabe continues like this for a bit but doesn’t waste any time taking things to the next level. Soon enough, my husband is dropping down to his knees before his lover, gazing up at him with cock hungry eyes as he opens wide and takes his cock between his lips.
Gabe begins to pump his head up and down across his new lover’s length, servicing him enthusiastically as the man moans and groans above him. Eventually, my husband pulls back, his eyes wild with oral enthusiasm as he playfully kisses the head of his shaft. Gabe is centering himself and getting ready for his next maneuver.
Moments later, my husband opens wide and takes Nick’s shaft once more, only this time he doesn’t bob his head. Instead, the man of my dreams slips the other man’s cock deeper and deeper within, relaxing his gag reflex and somehow allowing him to plummet past. Now Gabe’s face is pressed up hard against Nick’s abs, his dick fully consumed in a stunning deep throat.
The two of them stay like this for what seems like forever, Nick placing his hands on the back of my husband’s head and holding his here. Eventually, my husband is forced to pull back with a gasp, spit dangling from his lips in a long strand of saliva.