My name is Tom, and I am a normal middle-aged guy. 6 foot tall and 200 pounds, with long dirty blonde hair and sky blue eyes. I'm also sporting a 7-in...ch cut cock, that I'm pretty proud of. I'm recently divorced after 20 years currently between girlfriends. So I've been spending a lot of my free time stroking my very under-appreciated cock. That's enough about me...Last Friday night I decided to drink a few beers out on my backyard deck. Being bored and extremely horny I started watching some. But that gave me immense pleasure. I was pretty slim at that time though. Whenever I used to go to tuitions, I used to wear t-shirts or shirts and shorts or miniskirts. I rarely covered my legs. And that was my habit from my childhood days. I still remember, once sir telling me that there are other guys who come to classes and so I should not wear such short clothes. I followed his advice for some days, but then the October heat in Mumbai, I am sure all of us known, is simply unbearable. When. The difference was that in most of them there was a dejected looking woman, naked. Simultaneously, Laura realised two things; she was also naked, and the woman three cages along from hers was being fucked hard by a big black African man. As she recovered from the drugs she had been given, she also noticed that a cuff round her left ankle was shackled to a ring-bolt set in the floor by a short length of very solid looking chain. As soon as she could she started to scream at the top of her voice.. “I just wanted a hug,” she said. Something was wrong though. She wasn’t herself and I could tell that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I walked over and gave her a hug. The lack of clothing made me aware just how much of a woman my mother was. My mother was a proud woman. One who rarely dressed outside of her work clothes. To have my arms wrapped around her while hard nipples poked in my chest was something I would have thought hell would have had to freeze over to happen. Not that I was.