My petite, brunette wife and I were driving to our summer home when we decided to pull over at a very small town thrift shop to check for decorations for our cabin. It was in the 90's with a perfectly blue sky - a great mid-summer day.
We got some looks from a group of bikers who had assembled in the parking lot of some run down, single story building across the street. Since it was a small rural town, perhaps a foreign sports car seemed out of place. My wife's pink short shorts and tanned legs probably caught their attention as well.
My wife is tiny. She's 46 but looks 30 and is 5-1 and about 100 lbs with tiny tits and a tight body. She has super short hair and some cute and clever tattoos near her perfectly waxed pussy, but is actually quite reserved.
She didn't notice the stares from the biker gallery across the street. There were probably 10 or 12 of them. It didn't help that she dropped her phone and bent over to pick it up - providing them a great view of her tight and tiny ass wrapped in designer shorts.
We walked into the small, dusty shop and were greeted by a pleasant older woman. The old wood floors creaked as we walked around viewing signs from the 50's, metal pitchers, and other collectibles.
My wife asked the shopkeeper whether she had any wooden barrel planters and she said she had several in storage at her "warehouse" across the street.
She pointed to the rundown building I noted when we arrived and said we were free to go check them out. The bikers were still milking about in the dirt parking lot in front.
We looked through the dusty, glass window and my wife said, "Great! Thanks!"
She didn't seem to take notice of the bikers, and I decided not to care, so we walked back out into the hot summer day and crossed the very un-busy rural, two-lane highway.
As we crossed, the bikers all stopped and watched us. To get to the building, we had to go past all of them.
My wife was undaunted, and smiled and said, "Hello!" as we cut through their gathering.
"Hey there, pretty lady," was the response from a large, bearded biker as we worked our way towards the door of the ramshackle warehouse.
We entered through a half-hung, sliding wood door and saw a room filled with old items that the shopkeeper had clearly been assembling from farms in the area for decades.
We looked around for a bit, trying not to trip over antique items, and eventually a shadow was cast from the door we entered.
I looked back and all the bikers were walking through the door. The last one slid the door shut and said, "Can we help you find anything?"
I became nervous and my wife finally sensed something also. They clearly had a plan.
The lead biker who had commented on our way in said, "Pretty lady, we'd like to help get everything you need."
The biker group began closing in on us and we froze, realizing something was about to happen.
Wiping dust off a waist high, wooden contraption with three holes in it, the lead biker said, "This here is for breeding horses. You city folk have probably never seen one. Usually the mare gets fucked by one horse - today, we're going to breed one pretty lady with 10 studs."
We looked at each other and both bolted toward the back of the building, but there was no other door and the bikers just laughed as they enclosed on us in a semicircle.
