Spanish MILF seduces a man (femdom)

Lucas opens up the fridge, stomach rumbling. Nothing — his parents didn't bother buying any food for the house, again. The boy frowns, looking into the empty fridge for a moment again in frustration, before closing it.

The young boy's stomach rumbles again, hunger gnawing at his belly. There's nothing to eat at home, and the thought of another hungry night distresses him. But... there's always his neighbor, Mrs. Ortega — the motherly middle-aged Hispanic woman across the street. She's always treated him warmly ever since he and his family moved into the neighborhood a few years ago, taking care of him whenever his parents haven't. She's always cooking him food, or taking care of him in other ways, like helping him with his homework.

Lucas walks outside, locking up his house behind him. The biting chill of the night air greets him as he steps out onto the sidewalk, making him shiver a bit and stick his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Mrs. Ortega's home is a few houses down, and he makes his way over quickly, eager to hopefully get out of the cold. He knocks on her door, then waits patiently for a few moments before he hears the sound of the door unlocking.

Mrs. Ortega opens the door. She's a beautiful woman, with long thick hair that falls in dark heavy curls around her face, smooth naturally-tan skin, and a voluptuous motherly figure. She's wearing a pair of worn denim jeans, and a comfortable low-cut tank top which accentuates her natural femininity. At the sight of Lucas, she smiles warmly.

"Hola, mijo," she says, a pretty Latin accent coloring her words, "How are you? Are your parents home, honey?"

The boy looks back in the direction of his own house, a bit hesitantly. Mrs. Ortega seems to get the unspoken implication that they aren't, the look in her eyes softening with a maternal warmth. "Are you hungry? I made too much food, and I can't finish it all by myself. Would you like to come inside, Lucas?" she asks gently, leaning down a bit to be more on his level.

Lucas blushes a little, but nods eagerly, "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Ortega gives him a fond smile, "Niño, none of this 'ma'am' nonsense. Call me Camila." She reaches over, affectionately ruffling Lucas's hair, and the boy can't help but smile at the gesture.

"Okay, Mrs- I mean, Camila," Lucas replies, heart fluttering a bit at the way Camila smiles brightly at him in response, evidently pleased.

"Come in, está frío afuera, te vas a enfermar," she tuts, taking the boy's hand in her own and leading him into the house, closing the door behind them. Her house is cozy and comfortable, decorated in warm earthy colors, with lots of comfy furniture and homely knick-knacks everywhere. As they walk through Camila's house, Lucas looks around, noticing the photos on the wall. Most of them are family photos of Camila and what must be her children over the years, the photos ranging from her children in their infancy to them as grown adult men and women with young children of their own. It's clear his neighbor holds these photos in high esteem — they don't have a speck of dust on them, and they're all placed in well-trafficked areas of the house.

Lucas turns his gaze back to Camila as they approach the kitchen. Camila's hips swing as she walks, and he blushes at the sight of her ample ass jiggling gently beneath the hem of her jeans. He's been starting to develop an interest in girls, and he finds himself looking at Camila's voluptuous body in a new light than he has in previous years. The thought makes him blush even more, but he tries not to let it show.

The two pass into the kitchen, and Camila turns to look at him. "Mi casa es su casa, niño," she says, gesturing for Lucas to take a seat at one of the chairs, "I made picadillo y arroz congrí. You want some, baby?"

Lucas nods eagerly. He doesn't have any idea what either of those things are, but everything Camila makes is always tasty. She smiles, then bustles around the kitchen for a moment, spooning out food from the pots sitting on the stovetop, before returning with utensils and a plate positively brimming with food. It's full of rice with black beans, and what looks like seasoned ground meat, which both smell delicious. He can't help but stare hungrily as Camila brings him his meal, her ample breasts pushing against the front of her tank top as she bends over to place the plate on the table.

Lucas picks up his spoon, scooping up some of the meat and rice and taking a curious bite. It tastes just as good as it smells, well-seasoned and flavorful, and he digs in eagerly. Camila watches him, smiling affectionately, and takes a seat across from him at the table.

"You like my cooking?" she asks, beaming happily at him.

The boy nods vigorously, "It's great! Thank you so much, Camila." She's always so kind to him, and his heart flutters a bit in response.

She laughs softly, stroking Lucas's hair. "De nada, niño," she says, "I'm glad you like it. You're too skinny!" She affectionately pinches his cheek, making the boy blush. Lucas finishes off his meal quickly, and Camila nods in satisfaction as she cleans up the dishes. As she washes the dishes, Lucas stares down into his lap. The thought of being alone back in his own house makes him feel lonely and afraid, and he doesn't want to leave Camila's home so soon.

After wiping the last of the plates dry, Camila dries her hands on a dishtowel, then turns back to look at Lucas. She smiles warmly at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair again, then leans over to give him a soft kiss on the forehead. As if she knows what he's thinking, she softly says, "You can stay for as long as you want, Lucas. Is there anything else I can do for you, corazoncito?" As she says it, she leans forward on the table, her voluptuous breasts pressing against the front of her tank top, straining against the tight fabric, and he finds himself looking at them, entranced.