They entered the tavern and claimed two barstools at the side of the bar. The man, in his mid-20s, ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer. The former being for the dainty, scantily dressed woman at his side, also in her 20s. The tavern, a relic from bygone days, was still the town's main watering hole for the hard-hitting, local blue-collar worker. A jukebox stood illuminated against the wall, with Randy Travis's warm baritone voice coming out the speakers as he sang of resurrecting memories and digging up bones, which added a hauntingly heartbreaking ambience to the ribbons of smoke snaking across the ceiling.

"Ain't seem y'all 'round here," an older, graying man said as he leaned against the bar, waiting for his drink.

"We don't usually come on Fridays, but we've been here a few times," the young man said, and nursed his beer.

"I'm Tom," the older man said, extending a handshake.

"I'm Shane, and this is my wife, Ashley."

Tom's eyes climbed up Ashley's bare legs and over her black mini skirt to her jeweled belly button ring and through the valley of her braless, perky breasts wedged beneath a thin crop top tee shirt.

"I hope you like to dance, little lady," Tom said, and quickly turned his eyes to her husband, young enough to be his son, for approval.

"She does," Shane said, mirroring Ashley's smile.

"I do," Ashley concurred.

"Whatcha drinkin'?" Tom asked the couple, then ordered up another round.

"Thank you," Shane said, raising his beer. 

The threesome chitchatted as the tavern began to come alive, with bodies pressing against one another on the small dance floor. Ashley was five shots in and feeling good. She leaned into Shane's ear, then turned to Tom who had kicked up a conversation with a couple of coworkers from the Mill. It was evident from their dingy, dirty-stained coveralls, that they had pulled in a few hours of overtime. Tom looked down at Ashley's clean, porcelain-white hand resting on his thigh.

"Wanna dance with me?" Ashley said, adding with a sideways nod, "He doesn't want to," meaning her husband.

Tom finished off his beer and set it on the bar.

"I'd love to," Tom said, rising to his feet. Tom, standing at 6'5" and close to 255 lbs., towered over the 5'2" and 105 lb., Ashley. His hand swallowed hers as he escorted her to the dance floor. Tom's buddies turned to watch Ashley's ass bounce beneath her mini skirt as she walked away.

"That yer girlfriend?" One of the men asked Shane.

"Wife," Shane said.

"No shit?"

Shane couldn't help but chuckle at their dumbfounded, glossy stare as they watched his petite wife curled around their buddy Tom's beefy, lumberjack arm.

"What's this, Father Daughter, night?" another man said as he sidled up to the bar. His head spinning to catch his friend, Tom, slow dancing with the shamelessly seductive and fun-sized Ashley.

"About time you showed up, fucker," one of the guys said.

"Goddamn newbie doesn't know his ass from his elbow."

"We all started at the bottom, Jim. Remember that."

"Yeah well...next time you can babysit him," Jimmy said, and paused, "What the fuck you lookin' at?" He stared back at Shane. 

"Easy, hoss," Dwight, a walking tree-of-a-man with small wire-rimmed spectacles said. "Tammy," Dwight called out, "Beer him, please."

"You boys aren't startin' trouble, are ya?" Tammy the bartender wagged a playful finger at the guys, and laughed. She popped the top off a chilled beer. "Jimmy. Jimmy. Here, cool off."

"Don't mind him," Dwight said, leaning towards Shane who waved off the incident. Dwight introduced Jimmy to that shamelessly seductive cutie's husband.

"Sorry, man. Rough day, is all," Jimmy said and sighed.

"No problem," Shane started, "So, you all work to--"

"That really your wife?" Jimmy interjected. 

"Oh, yep. Goin' on seven years now."

"Damn," Jimmy said, and took a swig of beer, "How old are y'all?"

"I'm 25. She's 24."

"Ain't no fuckin' way," Jimmy said, "She looks..." his words trailed off.

"It's her size," Shane said, "...makes her look younger."

"Hey," John, another one of the men in their growing group, spoke up, "Mind if I dance with her next?"

"Not at all," Shane said.

"Mind if I take her home?" Jimmy said, and laughed.

Shane caught the guys sharing hushed words and salacious, silent gestures of wanting to fuck his wife. 

Ashley and Tom returned to the bar, and Ashley swiped Shane's beer and tipped it back. She smiled and pecked his cheek, then her eyes widened.

"Hey...really?" Shane said, catching Jimmy groping Ashley's ass.

"It's okay," Ashley mouthed to her husband.

"I told you, that skirt's gonna get us in trouble," Shane said, half-jokingly.

"It's okay," Ashley said, "we're here to have fun, right?"

"Yeah, but..." Shane said, and paused to address Jimmy again, "C'mon man, it's my wife."

"Hey," Ashley said, looking at her husband, "Stop. It's o-kay."

"C'mere, honey," John said, cupping Ashley's elbow, "I got this dance."

Ashley mouthed again, It's okay, and planted a kiss on her husband's lips. Then spun to meet John, a man in his late 30s. She put her arms through his, and they walked to the dance floor. The warm and rugged earthy notes of John's cologne arrested her senses and reminded Ashley of her uncle, as she laid her head against this barrel-chested cowboy. John dropped his hands and cupped her ass cheeks. Her skirt rode up and gave his friends at the bar, and everyone else in the tavern, a look at her black G-string which disappeared between her small bubbled ass. 

"Another beer?" Tammy said, noticing Shane's empty bottle.

"Better make it a shot," Shane said. He bitterly took his shot, feeling the whiskey's warmth fill his chest but it did nothing to harness his tormented thoughts as his wife knowingly put on a show for these horny hillbillies. She's not even trying to stop him, Shane thought, as he watched John's calloused hands squeezing Ashley's bare ass and even spreading her cheeks for his buddies at the bar. Her G-string barely covering her little pink button. When Ashley began grinding her chest against John's crotch, however, Shane had seen enough. He rose from his seat and started towards the dance floor.

"Mind if I cut in?" Shane said.

John thanked Ashley for the dance, and handed her off to Shane who noted her expression had shifted, as if he had just robbed her of something. Although she put her arms around him, she did not meet his eyes with her own, and she was clearly distracted and uninterested. Seven years of marriage had instilled in her the ability to read her husband like a book, and Shane knew it. 

"What's wrong?" Ashley said.

"Nothing," Shane lied, "Can't I dance with my wife?"

"That's not what you're doing, and you know it," she said, her voice sharp and direct. She played his game for a moment, doing her best to look happy, but then stopped and pulled away. "I need a drink," she said, leaving Shane to walk that humiliating walk back to the bar, alone.

Shane paused as he watched Jimmy give up his seat to Ashley, and she sat in the midst of Shane's nemeses. Shane shook his head in disbelief as his wife took John's drink out his hand and brought it to her lips, smiled, and took a sip. She turned her attention to the burly men surrounding her...running their hands up her inner thigh and under her skirt. Shane plopped back down onto the barstool, a million miles from her, feeling like a castaway.

"This one's on the house," Tammy said, and set a beer down in front of Shane.

He was nursing on his beer when Ashley walked up to him.

"You can go home," she said, smartly.

Shane saw the pack of men heading toward the exit, and Jimmy, standing...waiting...ten feet behind Ashley.

"All right," Shane said, "Let's go home." He stood up.

"No," Ashley said, "Clearly, you're not having a good time. Go home."

Shane couldn't find the words. He looked at her, and his heart sank. He glanced over her shoulder at Jimmy who gestured to his friends at the door to hang tight.

"I'll be home later," Ashley said.

"How? I mean..."

"Don't worry about it. I have a ride."

Shane exited the bar by way of the backdoor, and, irritably he fished his hand into his pocket for the car keys. He started the car and circled around to the front of the tavern in time to spy his wife climbing into Jimmy's car. Jimmy saw Shane drive by with a look of disbelieving disgust on his face, and Jimmy flashed a smug smile.

Shane headed home, teary-eyed. Then, as if something took control of the wheel, the car U-turned and headed back from where it came. Shane scouted the moon-soaked country streets and vacant fields. He looked for his wife, knowing it could cost him a deadly beating, for he was no match for any one of those husky guys. After nearly twenty minutes of searching, he decided to drive on home. He was passing a park, the same park he had passed half a dozen times that night, when he saw the car.

Shane extinguished his headlights and pulled off the road. He cut the engine, and stepped out into the unseasonably cool summer night. He walked the tree line until he was close enough to see inside the car.

Ashley was straddling Jimmy, and riding his cock as he reclined in his seat. Her moans escaped the cab and carried themselves to Shane's ear. His nostrils flared, and his pulse raced as he watched his wife willingly take a stranger's cock. Then she stopped, leaned down and kissed Jimmy. She straightened herself and climbed off of him...and onto John who reclined in the passenger seat, and it started all over again. Back and forth, back and forth. She was a toy, happy to be played with. The driver's door reeled open and Jimmy got out to pee. He faced in Shane's direction. Although veiled in shadows, Jimmy could not see the jealous husband...masturbating in the woods.

"Hey," Jimmy said over his shoulder, "bring her out here."

John's door opened, and he carried Ashley, like a sack of groceries, under his arm. He set her down in the grass and the two men fed her their sweaty cocks.

Shane's breathing grew heavy, and he hid himself behind a tree, his hand serving as a makeshift pussy as he fucked his fist.

Two sets of headlights fanned across the tree line and the grassy field, spotlighting his naked wife, knelt in the field with Jimmy's cock down her throat. Shane jumped back and froze as he watched Dwight and then Tom cheerfully exit their trucks. They were unzipping and pulling out their cocks as they approached an oversexed and excited Ashley. Shane craned his neck to see his wife smile up at them, and then, like a bitch in heat, she crawled on hands and knees...turning and, facing Shane's direction. The men stood behind her, each taking turns sodomizing her. The pain was evident on her face as she winced with every brutal, merciless thrust. Shane stroked his cock faster as his wife's moans quickly turned into cries.

Every time Tom or Dwight or John or even Jimmy would stop to check on her, however, she would sniffle, wiped the tears from her face, and tell them, with a trembling voice, to keep fucking her. And so, they did...for hours.

"Oh, fuck," one of the guys said, acknowledging the time, "my wife's gonna fuckin' flip if I'm not home soon." He continued to plow his shaft into Ashley who was by now, a ragged fuckdoll, too weak to even prop herself up. She laid face-down with her legs splayed wide, in the hushed, dewy field...like a corpse continuing to be fucked.

"Y'all takin' off?" Tom said, having drained a third load in Ashley's gaping ass.

"Got to," John said, "Family will be up soon."

Shane rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. 5:55 a.m. They had fucked her for nearly six straight hours.

"Can I catch a ride back with you, Dwight?" John asked, "My truck's still at the bar."

"Hop in."

"You gonna drive her home?" Tom asked Jimmy who was stamping out his cigarette.

"Wish I could," Jimmy started, "but I gotta get home too. Y'know how pissed Debra gets when I pull an all-nighter." 

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with her then?" Tom said, "Where she live?"

"Fuck it, man...leave her."

"We can't just fucking leave her," Tom said.

"Here," Jimmy said and tossed Ashley's clothes and phone out of his car, "her husband's number should be right there. She turned it off when he kept calling."

"Hell, I'd of had her put it on speaker," Tom said, and laughed, "So he could hear his wife gettin' pounded." Tom turned Ashley's phone on and, just like Jimmy said, Shane's number, or as Ashley had keyed it, Hubby, was at the top of the call log. 

Shane quickly drove his hand into his pocket to silence his phone just as it began to buzz.

"Hello..." Shane said in a low, hushed tone.

Tom did not identify himself, but gave directions to where Shane could... "Come get the whore." 

Tom dropped the phone in the grass next to an unconscious Ashley, then headed toward his truck. He followed Jimmy out of the field and onto the sleepy, paved road. 

Shane ran to his wife's side and looked down at her.

"Babe?" He said, and gave her a gentle nudge. She was out like a light. He glanced around. The morning sun was peeking over the horizon. He hurriedly unfastened his belt, dropped his pants, and sodomized her.

He came in her ass, as he had always wanted to.