Lesbian Couples Who Strap And Share: Music Lessons by Elle Temple

Author:Elle Temple [Temple, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-05-04T22:00:00+00:00

Jenny has decided to fly in on the night of the Chicago show, three weeks into the tour at a point that everything is finally running smoothly. The band is playing great, as usual, and the crew finally have everything organized like a well-oiled machine.

My wife arrives mid day, hopping a ride from the nearby airport and showing up at the venue with her bags in tow. This evening we’re playing in a massive arena that’s normally reserved for basketball, but will tonight provide a home for some epic rock and roll theatrics.

“Baby!” I cry out when I see her, rushing over and throwing my arms around the woman of my dreams.

While I had once been hesitant to bring Jenny into this environment, all of my doubts fly out the window the very second that my arms wrap around her warm body.

It’s not until I pull away to take her in that I realize what she’s wearing.

Instead of her usual conservative attire, my wife has dressed up for the occasion, sporting a leather jacket and scant, midriff-bearing top that shows off her impeccable physique.

“What do we have here?” I question with a laugh.

“This is my tour outfit!” Jenny counters. “I thought you’d be impressed.”

“Oh I’m impressed,” I tell her. “I’m sure everyone else will be impressed too once they get a look at you. They’re gonna think you’re one of the groupies.”

The second that I say this, I’m suddenly struck with a strange, erotic chill, an unfamiliar emotion that surges through me without warning and sets my senses on edge. Obviously, the thought of my wife as a sex-crazed lesbian groupie for this band of women rockers should make me feel slightly uncomfortable, and it does to an extent, but even more potent than the latent jealousy coursing through my veins is something else entirely, an unexpected dose of arousal.

“Everything okay?” Jenny suddenly asks, breaking through my thoughts.

“Oh yeah,” I stammer, suddenly pulled back into reality before my mind has enough time to wander off too far.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a small, rectangular pass with a photo of the band printed across the front, and the words ‘all access’ emblazed across the top in bold. “Don’t lose this,” I tell Jenny sternly.

“And what will happen if I do?” my wife coos back playfully.

“Then I guess I’ll see you when I get home in two months, because you won’t be getting backstage again,” I joke.

Suddenly, our reunion is interrupted by the bellowing shout of my stage manager, her voice ringing loudly through the cement concourse around us. “Doors open in ten minutes!” she calls, which is my cue to get back to work.

“You going to be okay finding your way around?” I ask my wife. “There’s catering down the hall over there, and the busses are out back. The crew bus is green and the band bus is red.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jenny assures me. “I’m gonna go out and watch the show from out front.”

I nod, then kiss Jenny one more time before hurrying off into the depths of the venue.

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