The woman seemed to be bent over some kind of contraption similar to the sawhorses I'd seen construction workers using. Her bottom half was sort of naked, long slim legs clad in only sheer stockings with the suspenders from a garter belt running along the upper thighs. If there were panties, they were very very small and I could not see them at all; there probably were no panties though as I'll explain in a minute. Since she was side-on to my line of sight, I could see her upper half as well and that too continued the same theme. Her upper body was covered with a strappy bra-like garment, very form fitting, but again, this was unlike any bra I had seen before. For one thing, there were no cups to hold the breasts. They dangled from her horizontal chest, large and plump and very white, ringed by the dark fabric of her garment. The pink nipples seemed to be covered partially with some dark material and there were twin cords of some sort and leading from them. Her upper body had no supports other than a second sawhorse out in front of her. She held on to it with both hands, fingers barely reaching. The device seemed to be padded and covered with some soft material for her fingers were able to sink partway into them.
The black man that stood between her arms was pulling on the cords attached to her nipples and jerking them occasionally while he plunged his cock into her mouth with alternating slow and fast movements. Saliva dribbled from her stretched mouth and dripped slowly in log strands down to the floor. I could see his buttock muscles clench and unclench, his clearly defined thighs flexing and relaxing as he moved back and forth. Every few back and forth motions would rock the sawhorse behind his back. His dark cock emerged partially from her big 'O' of a mouth, glistening with saliva. Even from where I stood, I could see it was a large specimen and that she was having some trouble deep throating him. Tears had streamed from her eyes as she sucked—yes sucked, I could see her cheeks hollow out every time he plunged in, this was no mere face fuck—and her mascara had streaked down her cheeks.
The paunchy white man behind her had his khaki shirt unbuttoned and flapping on his pale body, trousers puddled around his ankles. He slammed into her, clearly fucking her with slow languorous strokes, but his cock was concealed by the swell of her buttocks. I could not see his face because of his large cowboy hat. He took long drags from his cigarette as he fucked her and blew the smoke al over her ass and back. He slapped her ass repeatedly with his free hand and the ass-flesh jiggled, but not too much. The woman was toned. He exchanged a few words with the black guy in front, but everything was in silent motion. I could not hear anything from where I stood and doubted I could even if were right outside the window.
Cigarette! That brought me back to the present in a hurry as the stub started burning my finger. I'd sneaked out in the dark Connecticut winter night to sneak a smoke. It was quite an undertaking—I had to shrug into my overcoat and run out into the backyard carefully stepping in only the plowed areas. My usual location to smoke was just beyond the reach of the motion activated lights over the garage, and as it turned out, behind one of the large ornamental pines that bordered our neighbor's property. The houses were built on a slight rise—the locals called it a hill—and as a result, while most of the basements could not even be seen from the front, they had walk-out doors in the back. As a result, I could stand there in the dark and look straight into the neighbor's basement.
It was a finished basement with carpet and drapes and wood paneling from what I could see. No cinderblock or cement there. There were mirrors everywhere; in fact, at least two of the walls around the woman looked like they were floor to ceiling mirrors, giving me an excellent view of all angles of the woman's debasement. Ha! Get it? Debasement in de basement? I'm fucking funny even if I do say so myself. Anyhow, the only thing that was strange—and this did not strike me at the time—was that the drapes were not drawn. In fact, every other time I had stood in this same spot, I had seen the dark, blackout drapes drawn tight. I had never actually seen into the basement before. I stubbed out the cigarette that had just burned my finger in a snow bank—I could see my previous butts (cigarette butts that is) there in the moonlight reflecting off the bright snow all around me. For good measure, I stuck my burned finger into the snow too while I continued to watch the woman getting fucked from both ends.
