Smuggled to America

After a 10-month hiatus I am finally back to indulge myself in the world of erotic literature. I hope I don't disappoint. And as a side note on my last story I got 56,893 reads but only 316 votes. That's less than 1%. Please people, it just takes a few more clicks to vote. And if you leave your email I will respond. Enjoy. Adios.

Smuggled To America: A Mother And Son's Difficult Journey

I still remember the day like it was yesterday. In Mexico every year it is recognized as the day it won its independence from Spain. And for my mother Maria and I, September 16, 2001, a similar kind of liberation was won. It was the day we headed for the United States. My mother and I were only 37 and 18, respectively. I wish I could tell you my father's age but my mother ceased to speak about him when he left us when I was only five years old. And thinking back, you could say that a lot of the hardships that had befallen us, and forced us to migrate to the United States were because my father had left us. Life was hard in Mexico as it was, and my mother, after trying to make a living by being a street vendor, finally decided to migrate to the "promise land" and make it a point to give me the advantages that she was so unjustifiably denied. So on that 16th of September exactly one year ago, we stepped out of our small shanty and headed north, never to return again.

I remember reaching a small, abandoned warehouse near the Texas/Mexican border after walking through a few miles of rough, dry terrain. My mother spoke to an older man when we arrived as I stood back trying to decipher the words being pushed through their lips. He wore a very distinct black vaquero hat with plumage on the side. A cigarette tactfully bounced up and down as he spoke. I could only see my mother's back standing there looking up at him in her black skirt, white shirt, and half heel shoes. We did not have any money, and everything we owned we carried with us. My mother finally came to me and told me that the man would help smuggle us in to the United States. She pointed to a white van, and informed me that, that was our ticket to a better future.

"Miguel," she called to me. "I have to work out some details with Mr. Rivera, so you will have to wait for me here mijo," she told me before disappearing into a confined part of the abandoned warehouse.

I did not know much at the time about how the world operated. I did know that we had no money and that this Mr. Rivera was helping us a great deal through the kindness of his heart. While I pondered life, I began to hear her. Sounds that undeniably belonged to my mother escaped her mouth and were carried to my ear by the wind. As I followed the sounds and neared them, they became even more evident. At first my heart raced at the thought that the sounds were manufactured by a state of panic. Upon reaching the room and peaking in through a dusty broken window I realized that my mother's sounds were those of pleasure.

That was the first time I ever saw my mother's body without any garments concealing her body from my eyes. She laid on a small, dusty, wooden table, with her blouse unbuttoned and spread apart exposing her breasts. I remember it like yesterday, her large breasts bouncing slightly up and down, her dark, broad nipples imitating the same movement. Her face was contorted by what I assumed were feelings of both pleasure and pain. Her mouth remained open while she panted. Her black skirt was pulled up and was wrapped around her waist. Her panties on the floor, and her black half heel shoes were still on her feet, with her legs wrapped around the old man's waist. Her hands taking a strong hold of the table exposing her thick black hairy underarms. And Mr. Rivera, who I had previously labeled as a kind-hearted man, stood over my mom, with his pants around his ankles, taking advantage of my mother right before my eyes. He pulled at her hips to meet his thrusts, bumping his thick bush against hers and at times wiping the sweat from his forehead. I remained frozen and remarkably stayed to provide an audience for my mother's taking. The dirty old man finally slumped over my mother as he surged his last stab deep inside her. He remained plumped over her for a good minute gasping for oxygen, and pinning her to the hard wooden table. I ran back to the spot where my mother insisted I stay.

My stomach turned and twisted with every image that my mind flashed before my eyes while I waited for my mother's return. You cannot imagine the feelings a young, 18 year old man experiences when he sees his mother in that circumstance. I felt betrayal and anger for her being at another man's side, when all my life she had been by mine. Disgust and anguish for seeing my mother violated and taken advantage of like a cheap whore. Love and admiration for the extent she would go through for the betterment of our future. And also a lustful sensation from seeing her naked body being dominated.

Four men, also illegal immigrants, jumped in the back of the van. My mother and Mr. Rivera finally resurfaced and the three of us jumped into the front seat. As Mr. Rivera put the van in drive and stepped on the gas I laid my head on the van door using my arm as a pillow, and urged my mind to forget what it had witnessed. My mother rested her head on my shoulder and caressed my arm as a signal that everything we wanted would soon become reality. As we rode the bumpy dirt road, my mind and body finally succumbed to its desire to sleep.

After what seemed like hours I finally silently opened my eyes. Still bewildered from the sleep and the absence of the sun, I remained with my head leaning on my arm. I peeked over to my left to see my mother. Like a fast surge, the sickly feeling my stomach had previously felt quickly found its way back as I saw my mother's face planted deep in Mr. Rivera's lap. I felt the familiar anger, and disgust, as well as the excitement that I had previously had. I did not know how much more of the whole ordeal I could sustain. I just sat there with my head leaning on my arm, pretended to be asleep, and concentrated on how my mother wrapped her big pouty lips on this wretched man's big sweaty cock. She must have been in that position for a good 10 minutes before his big hand rested on her head, and then grabbing her pretty, curly, black hair commanded the speed of her bobbing head. I saw his eyes roll back a bit as his body convulsed and released his hot nasty cum straight into my mother's mouth. If I remember correctly, it was his orgasm that almost ran the van off the road and caused everyone to wake up abruptly. I rose up, as did my mother trying to wipe her mouth.

"Are you alright mijo," I remember her asking as I looked in her eyes and ran my hand through her pretty, curly, black hair removing some of Mr. Rivera's cum.

"Yes mami, I am fine," I reassured her.

"Why don't we take a break while we are all up," Mr. Rivera announced.

I was ready to pull over and get out for a stretch as well as try to talk to my mother about all that I had witnessed. But for some odd reason, that I would soon come to understand, my mother did not want to pull over and take a break just yet. Mr. Rivera of course paid her objection no mind and pulled over anyways.

The four men in the back of the van as well as Mr. Rivera sneaked off to the neighboring bushes to relieve themselves while my mother and I stayed by the van and had an opportunity to talk.

"Mami, I..I… I don't think we have to continue. I think we can go back to Mexico and I will try to find work." I began to tell her. "Maybe I can be a…."

"Shhhhhhhhh," she told me as she put her finger over my lips. "We are already in the Unites States, and we are almost arriving at Houston. I want the best for you, and you are going to get it."

"But mami, I don't like what I have been seeing, you don't have to…"

"Look at me," she interrupted again. "You don't know what is going on, ok? You just concentrate on our future and what awaits us. You don't worry about me. That is my job you hear. Now why don't you get in the van and wait for me while I go and try to pee somewhere," she instructed, as she guided me in the van, and closed the door.

I looked at my mother wanting to talk to her, wanting to hold her in my arms, wanting to tell her that I appreciated her, and that I wish I could do something to avoid all that was happening. I vowed to do well for myself in the U.S. and repay her for all she had done for me. I saw her outline disappear in the night behind the bushes. I rested my head back and through the windshield looked up at the clear sky. I thought about seeing my mother being fucked by Mr. Rivera, and her mouth around his cock, and how it made me feel mad, disgusted, as well as excited. I knew I should not feel excited about the situation my mother was in so I tried to bury those taboo, incestuous feelings of excitement deep in the back of my mind.

After 10 minutes I finally realized that neither my mother nor Mr. Rivera and the four other men had returned. This time the feelings in my stomach resurfaced almost automatically like an instinctive force cluing me in on the activities going on around me. I stepped out of the van and quietly and carefully stepped through the thick bushes. I finally heard her familiar moans and directed my pace towards them. Surely the men would have heard me if it weren't for her loud moans, but I managed to sneak in close behind the bushes and see my mother naked once again this time on the ground. This time she was completely naked. Although it was night, I could see my mother's big swollen breasts once again bouncing and slapping on her chest, her legs spread wide open exposing her thick black bush, her arms clenching the ground exposing her hairy pits, all visible in the light of Mr. Rivera's lamp conveniently hanging on a nearby tree. One of the men kneeled in front of her holding her legs on his shoulders and stabbing his cock deep inside her cunt. I figured she knew this was coming, and was probably the reason she was not so eager to pull over.

I remember being confused. What was I to do? I wanted to stop it and rescue her but she would hate me if I screwed this up. After all she was doing this for me, and for our future. But again I just felt like I wanted her in my arms, wanting to help her, and hold her. I remained there looking on as the four men and Mr. Rivera took turns violating my mother, and rewarding her with load after load of hot, white cum. With those feelings of wanting to console her I also conjured up those feelings of excitement. My cock raged hard, and I slid my hand under my pants to feel its hardness. It was wrong what I felt but those feelings were undeniable. I almost sinfully began to stroke myself, but was stopped my Mr. Rivera finally instructing the men to return to the van.

I made my way back to the van and waited for their return. My mother walked awkwardly towards the van, her hair a bit dirty from the ground. She got in not saying a word, pretending like nothing had happened. This time she fell asleep and I remained awake while I held her head on my lap. I stroked my mother's hair and beautiful face and knew it would soon be over as the distance to Houston became shorter and shorter.

I remember finally arriving in Houston, in another inner-city warehouse type building. It was a sort of bus service with quite a few people around. As soon as we exited the van I grabbed my mother's hand and decided it was time to leave Mr. Rivera, and put the entire ordeal behind us. We managed to hide ourselves from him in the crowd of people, and slowly made our way out. I knew that if we stuck around I would have to witness further payment of services from my mother to Mr. Rivera. That was the last time my mother and I would ever see of him.

After finally putting Mr. Rivera and the horrible smuggling fiasco behind us we concentrated on finding work in the new country. It took about three to four months before my mother found steady work, but we managed to stay at a shelter for homeless and underprivileged citizens. I remember when she came to the shelter excited about her new job. She had found a housekeeper position for a wealthy Caucasian male and his wife. Furthermore it was a live-in job and my mother informed me that that week was our last at the shelter and we would soon have our own room in a lucrative up-scale house. Mr. Smith, as she called him, was even able to get greencards for us. Now I could attend the local junior college while my mother worked. Things were finally looking up, so I thought until our first day in our new home.

I remember spending that first day in Mr. Smith's house organizing our room. The gracious man even purchased new clothes for us. When I first saw the two beds in the room for my mother and I, it felt like a dream come true. It had been a good four months since we had slept in a decent mattress. That night we even had dinner with Mr. Smith and his wife, and it felt like we were honored guests. Only thing that ran through my mind at that time was that our lives were finally looking promising. My mother had a job, I was going to start college, we had our own room, new clothes, and even greencards, but later that night I learned again that nothing comes without a price.

It must have been about midnight. My mother had fallen asleep after talking to me about our new circumstance. I, still filled with excitement, was unable to succumb to my sleep, and managed to be awake when I saw our door cracked open. My eyes had already adjusted to the dark, and I saw a figure slide in to our room and head to my mother's bedside. I soon recognized that the figure belonged to Mr. Smith, and my mother's words further substantiated my conclusion.

"But my son Senor, please, not our first night," I heard her whisper.

I had again been fooled to think that kind-hearted people existed in this world. It seemed like I was transported back to that warehouse where I first saw my mother being used by another old man. The same gut wrenching feelings came back to me, as it was apparent that my ears were about to witness my mother's taking once again.

"Come on now Maria, I thought you liked it. You did not seem to have any problems yesterday when you wanted the job," Mr. Smith whispered.

That was the end of the dialogue, and the next sound I heard was the rustling of clothes being pulled down and off. I supposed my mother really had no option. I heard a muffled moan from both of them apparently from his initial penetration of my mother. I pretended to be asleep, but stayed awake for the entire 15 minutes of moans, kisses, and squeaking. At first I placed my pillow against my ears, almost wanting to cry out, and show Mr. Smith that she was my mother and that I was letting no one take her from me. But eventually the pillow was released and I shamefully listened to my mother's taking, and saw their outlines, with him on top of her, and her legs wrapped around his waist.

After his departure from the room, I deliberated what action to take. Should I attempt to talk and console her? Or maybe she wanted to pretend that I was oblivious to everything that was going on. I thought about maybe informing Mrs. Smith of her husband's despicable act, but I knew that that would only lead to our ousting. What I had thought was our dream come true was only another disadvantaged situation for my mother to endure. I remember deciding to not attend school, and get work instead to rescue my mother once and for all. After all we had greencards now, and no one could take those away from us. Eventually I fell asleep, vowing to be the man that my mother had worked so hard to raise.

The next morning, after bathing and getting dressed and preparing to head out to find work, I saw a French maid's uniform laid out on my mother's bed.

"Mami?" I asked her. "Is this your uniform."?

"Si, mijo, I don't like it too much, but what can I do," she replied as she grabbed the uniform and pressed against her body to show me. "You don't like it?"

"No mami, not really. And about last night."

"Oh my look at the time mijo. You need to get to that college and enroll before you miss out," she instructed in an attempt to thwart my discussion of the activities of the previous night.

"Yes mami, of course," I assured her, as I gave her a kiss and headed out determined to find work.

It took two weeks but I finally got hired on as a labor worker with a manufacturing company. And it could not of came at a better time. I remember the day because of another incident I witnessed that day. I came to inform my mother of my new occupation, and that I was going to get her out of this hellhole. As I walked in the house I heard those all to familiar sounds my mother had grown accustomed to. The moans and groans grew louder as I neared the living room. Peeking behind the wall, I saw my mother bent over the sofa, with her French maid uniform raised up exposing her ass, and her black fishnet stockings pulled down to her ankles. Mr. Smith, pumped his cock deep in her ass, sending jolts through her body, and making her tits finally bounce out of her uniform, and bounce wildly like water-filled balloons. So many times of witnessing my mom in these sort of predicaments, and I still felt that same gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach, and that exciting tingle in my cock that I so desperately tried to suppress. When he finally reached his climax, he pulled out of her ass and insisted on spreading his hot white cum all over her fat tits. My mother spread his ooze all over them with her hand, probably knowing that that was what he liked. I retreated to my room and waited about 45 minutes before she entered.

"Mijo, what are you doing here?" she surprisingly asked me. "Why are you not in school?"

I was reluctant to tell her that I had not been attending school, but I was so excited to tell her that I had managed to find work. She was furious at first, yelling and telling me that it was her job to take care of me, and that it was my job to attend school in order to have a better future. I was unmoved in my position, and I informed her that I had rented us a small one-bedroom apartment, and that Mr. Smith no longer had to be a part of our lives. Her eyes teared up, and her emotions got the best of her, impending her from arguing with me about my choices. We left that very day, but not without a small hand written letter to Mrs. Smith from me.

After seeing my mother being taking advantage of by Mr. Rivera on our trip to America, and Mr. Smith while living under his house for three months, we finally had what we wanted. We had an apartment, and although it was tiny, it was a place my mother and I could call home. I had a steady job, and was able to provide food and clothing. We also had greencards, and most importantly each other, and without having to succumb to greedy, horny old men. After about two months in our new place, I finally had enough money to sign up for part time classes at the local junior college. I remember that day as well, as I was so excited to run home to tell my mother, that I had finally taken a step towards college, like she always dreamed about.

I remember pulling and parking in my usual spot. Suddenly a new, white Cadillac pulled up about three spots down from me. I remember admiring the beautiful car, and then witnessing my mother open and come out from the passenger door. At first I was confused. What was she doing with this man, and who was he. Then I became infuriated when I noticed her wearing an extravagantly short skirt, with high heels shoes, and a very tight halter-top. What finally topped it off was the wad of cash the man handed to her before he drove off.

After doing everything in my power to expel her from the live that she was forced to live, it seemed that she was right back into it. I don't think in my entire life I had ever been more infuriated and sick, than at that very moment. I followed her up to our apartment, opening the door abruptly and calling out to her. I swung the bedroom door open, after realizing where she was.