Andrea Vargas stood in the kitchen of her large, South Florida home, chopping vegetables and preparing ingredients for that night's dinner. The 38-year-old curvy housewife wore pink leggings, white flip flops, and a light pink t-shirt she had tied off at her belly button to give her tight midriff some air on the warm afternoon. By that time, her husband and her son would not be much longer in getting home.
Andrea had been born in Colombia, and her light-medium complexion, big, juicy butt, and lingering accent were obvious clues as to her Latin origin. Her family immigrated to the United States when she was 10 and they settled near Miami, in a neighborhood with many South Americans under similar circumstances. She met her future husband, Paulo, while in high school. Being Colombian himself, Paulo and Andrea hit it off and got serious quickly. Paulo had been only the second man Andrea had ever been romantically involved with. They pleased their Catholic parents by tying the knot shortly after high school, as Paulo began law school. At 20, Andrea gave birth to their son, Daniel.
18 years later, the tight-knit family was doing better than ever, even if a little bored. Paulo had worked hard, became successful as a corporate tax lawyer, and now had his family living in relative luxury quite a far cry from their humble beginnings. Daniel, who ended up being the couple's only child, was now a high school senior and was quite well-adjusted. Andrea lived the life of a trophy wife. She worked out, took care of Daniel, and attended to her household duties. She was active in the local PTA and loved picking up and dropping hobbies without a thought or care. She was a great mother who always doted on Daniel, looking for any opportunity to help make life easier for him.
The boom of the heavy front door slamming made Andrea Vargas flinch and drop her kitchen knife, sending it rattling on her countertop. She sighed and listened on as her son stomped up the stairs and shut himself in his room, slamming that door for good measure. That sort of entrance signaled to her that her son had yet another "rough day" at school. There had been more and more of those recently. Andrea decided to give him a few minutes to himself in his room, before taking a break on making dinner and heading up to check on him.
Daniel lay sulking on his bed, emotional. He was angry, and a bit sad, but was still trying to stroke his soft cock to hardness through his jeans. His tormentor, local basketball star Chris Wright, had been especially mean to him that day, but that didn't stop the 18-year-old high school senior from being horny as usual. His fantasies drifted to his sexy, stacked mom but even those lurid daydreams couldn't get his blood flowing on this day.
As much as he hated himself for it, Daniel had been attracted to his mom, Andrea, since as long as he could remember. Growing up, everyone constantly reminded him, friend or foe, how hot his mom was. Over the years he had grown accustomed to men smiling at, talking to, and flirting with his mom, everywhere she took him. To make matters worse, he could hardly think of an item in his mom's wardrobe that did not accentuate her curves and show at least a few inches of cleavage. He often complained that no other sons had to put up with having a mom as hot as his.
In his younger days, the smell of her hair and the sound of her voice excited him. His mom had gotten a boob job when he was still a toddler, so young Daniel grew up staring at her jutting, swaying DD melons. Now as a horny teenager, it was the feeling of her big soft tits pressed against him in a hug, and her unbelievably thick booty that drove him crazy. That big Latina butt was her best feature. Her ass was fat, round, and firm, sticking out proudly no matter what she wore. She had thick thighs to match that rump, with defined calves and soft, pedicured feet.
After a few minutes of wanking uselessly, he heard the light claps of his mom's flip flops on the wooden stairs and let go of his crotch, knowing he was out of time. There was a knock on his door.
"Hi Mijo... it's me. Can I come in so we can talk a few minutes?"
Daniel was not looking forward to having this conversation, but understood he had little choice. "Ugh. come in mom," he groaned.
Andrea walked into her son's room, flashed him a concerned smile, and turned around to shut the door behind her. Daniel lay back miserly on his bed, arms folded behind his head. Andrea walked over to her son, worried face of sympathy, and leaned in to give him a wet kiss on the forehead. She sat near his chest, on the edge of his bed. She swung one leg gracefully over the other and let her sandal dangle on the end of her dainty foot.
"My baby boy," she stroked his face, gently moving some hair away from his eyes. "Please tell me what happened today."
Daniel let out a long sigh, his depression plain on his face. He knew he couldn't keep his predicament a secret from his mother his whole senior year. He'd just have to spit it out.
"It's not a big deal mom. It's just this new guy in school, he just transferred, his name is Chris Wright. He plays on the basketball team and he's in some of my classes." Daniel paused. "He's been calling me names and getting the other students to laugh at me..." He trailed off, the beginning of tears welling up in his eyes.
Andrea was shocked, and distressed. Daniel's first three years in high school had gone by extremely well. He was well-adjusted socially, and successful academically. She knew he had even begun to flirt with some cute girls. She couldn't bear to hear that her son was suffering at the hands of this bully. She'd read articles of what being bullied can do to people, and she didn't want her only child becoming an outcast or going off to college mentally unhinged. Aside from that, Andrea was angry. Who does this Chris kid think he is coming to her son's school and making his senior year hell? She would definitely need to have a talk with Chris' parents.
"Oh, baby that's terrible! What do the teachers tell him? Hasn't he gotten in trouble for that?"
"The teachers laugh along with everyone else! He's the star player on the basketball team, they let him do anything he wants."
Andrea lovingly rubbed her son's legs, near his knee, trying to calm him down as he spoke. She and Daniel were very close, having spent most of their lives in the house together while his father worked.
"What exactly has he been saying to you? What sort of names?"
Daniel grimaced, knowing that question was coming. "I don't want to talk about it mom, I want to leave it there."
