God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 588

Chapter 588: Soak Me In Your Milk
Abigaille’s eyes fluttered open, her mind slowly surfacing from the thick, euphoric daze that had swallowed her whole. Her body still buzzed with the aftershocks of her climax, her chest heaving as she blinked into focus, only to find Nina and Camila standing right in front of her, their faces etched with concern.

The sight jolted her, but then a spark of realization lit up her hazy gaze, and a wide, giddy smile broke across her lips. She glanced down at her breasts, still slick and leaking with milk, and a rush of joy flooded through her.

“Oh-Oh my goodness!” She gasped, her voice trembling with excitement as she clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. “Look at me I’m lactating! I did it, I really did it! I’m so happy—I can finally be a proper mother, just like you two!” Her tone was bright and breathless, her fluster giving way to pure, unfiltered delight as she bounced slightly on the sofa, milk dribbling from her nipples with every little movement.

Nina and Camila’s worried expressions softened, their own smiles tugging at their lips as they shared in her joy. “Congrats, Abi!” Nina said, her voice warm as she clapped her hands together. “We knew you had it in you—with those massive tits of yours, it was only a matter of time!”

Camila nodded, smirking playfully. “Yeah, Abi, we always figured you’d be a milk machine—those beauties were just waiting to burst!”

But then their smiles faltered, a flicker of hesitation crossing their faces as they exchanged a quick glance.

Nina cleared her throat, her tone turning cautious. “We’re thrilled for you, really—but, uh…We’re a little worried about your son down there.”

Camila nodded, biting her lip as she added. “Yeah, as happy as we are, Kafka, he’s…he’snot looking so hot right now.”

Abigaille blinked, confusion knitting her brows as she tilted her head. “What? What do you mean?” She asked, her voice still bubbly with lingering excitement.

But then she followed their gaze downward, her eyes dropping to her lap, and her breath caught in her throat.

There was Kafka, sprawled across her thighs, his face a glistening mess of milk—dripping from his hair, coating his cheeks, pooling in his ears. His eyes were half closed like was on the verge of passing on, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, looking for all the world like he might drown in the creamy flood she’d unleashed.

“Oh—oh no!” Abigaille yelped, panic seizing her as she scrambled to pull him up, her hands shaking as she yanked him into a sitting position. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight as she shook him gently, her voice rising in a flustered frenzy. “Sweetie! Are you alright? Are you okay? Oh God, please tell me you’re fine—I don’t know what I’d do if I actually killed you with my milk! I’d never forgive myself—please, say something!”

Kafka coughed, a wet, gurgling sound, and slowly raised a hand to wipe the milk from his face, smearing it across his skin as he cleared his eyes.

“I’m…I’m fine.” He said, his voice hoarse but steady as he blinked up at her, a faint grin tugging at his milk-soaked lips. “I’m alright, Mom—just…Whew, that was a lot. But I’d be dead for sure if I was lactose intolerant, though with all that milk I just chugged!” His grin widened, a teasing glint in his eyes as he shook his head, droplets flying from his hair.

Abigaille’s cheeks flared red, embarrassment washing over her as she clutched him tighter. “Oh, you don’t scare me like that!” She scolded, her voice softening as she relaxed, her gaze drifting to her breasts.

They were still leaking, thin streams of milk trickling from her nipples, pooling on her lap as she sat there. Kafka also followed her stare, his eyes lingering on the sight, and let out a low whistle.

“I knew they were big, Mom…” He said, his tone half-awed, half-playful. “…and I figured you’d have a lot in there—but damn, I didn’t expect that much. You’re a regular dairy cow, Mom, with how much you’re pumping out!”

Her blush deepened, and she swatted at his shoulder, her voice a flustered whine. “Don’t call me that, you little tease! That’s so embarrassing!”

But before she could protest further, Nina piped up, her grin wicked as she leaned in. “Oh, no, he’s right—you’re the dairy queen now, Abi! I thought I was the champ, but you? You’ve got a whole milk factory strapped to your chest!”

Camila chimed in, laughing as she gestured at Abigaille’s still—dripping breasts. “Seriously, even the plumpest cow couldn’t keep up with you—you’re a milk machine, Abi! We’re bowing down to the queen!”

Abigaille’s hands flew to her face, her embarrassment peaking as she squeaked. “Stop it, both of you! That’s—oh, you’re all awful!”

But beneath her fluster, a tiny, proud smile flickered, her heart swelling with joy and mortification as the room filled with their teasing laughter.

Kafka, still wiping stray droplets of milk from his chin, then turned his attention to Nina and Camila, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes as he caught his breath.

His grin widened, sharp and teasing, as he leaned back against the sofa, letting his gaze roam over them with unabashed intent. “You two think you’re off the hook, huh?” He drawled, his voice and playful as he pointed a finger between them. “Don’t act all innocent now—you’re dairy cows too, leaking like crazy over there. Look at those breasts—practically bursting with milk, just like my mother’s!”

Nina and Camila froze, their eyes widening as his stare locked onto their chests. Sure enough, a stream of milk was flowing down their body from their nipples where their own lactation had kicked in, spurred by the sheer intensity of the scene they’d witnessed.

Nina’s hands flew to cover herself, her cheeks flaring red, while Camila crossed her arms, though it did little to hide the telltale stains. “W-What?!” Nina sputtered, her voice a mix of indignation and fluster. “Don’t drag us into this, you little—!”

But Kafka wasn’t done, his grin turning downright wicked as he leaned forward, his tone dipping into a sultry, dirty purr.

“Oh, come on, look at you both—so fucking hot with those lactating tits, dripping all over the place. Nina, yours are practically begging to be squeezed, all swollen and sexy, leaking like that—bet they’d spray just as hard as Mom’s if I got my hands on them.” He smirked, his eyes flicking to Camila next. “And you, Camila—those plump, juicy breasts that are bathing you in milk? Shit, they’re screaming ‘milk me,’ all perky and wet.”

“…You two are basically walking wet dreams right now—hot, messy dairy queens strutting around like you don’t know how goddamn irresistible you look.”

Nina’s jaw dropped, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson as she stammered.

“You…You perv! Shut up!” But her voice wavered, a flush of heat creeping down her neck as his words sank in, her body betraying her with a shiver she couldn’t hide.

Camila, meanwhile, fanned herself with a shaky hand, her smirk faltering into a flustered laugh. “Oh my, you’re too much, Kafka—I’m burning up over here.” She shot back, though her eyes sparkled with embarrassment and reluctant thrill, her chest heaving as she tried to play it cool.

Abigaille, still sat on the sofa with milk trickling from her nipples, swatted at Kafka’s arm again, her own blush flaring anew. “Kafi, stop it—you’re embarrassing them! And me too!” She squeaked, though a tiny giggle slipped out, her fluster mingling with amusement at his relentless teasing.

But Kafka just chuckled, undeterred, his gaze darting between the three of them as he kept up the barrage.

“What? It’s true—look at you all, leaking like sexy little milk fountains. Nina, bet you’d moan like crazy if someone sucked those dripping tits dry—those nipples look so fucking ready for it.”

“And Camila, shit, I can practically taste the cream from here—those breasts are begging for a mouth, all slick and hot like that. You’re all driving me nuts, strutting around with those gorgeous, milky racks, so how’s a guy supposed to keep his cool?”

“…In fact, with how much milk you’re pumping out, I wanna see them in action right now…”

“…So, all of you, stand up, line up in front of me while I sit here and squeeze those gorgeous breasts and squirt that milk all over my face—drench me in it. I want it dripping off me.”

Nina’s eyes widened,, her hands flying to cover her chest. “W-What?!” She stammered, her voice a flustered squeak. “No way—I’m not doing that! That’s too embarrassing…way too much! And it’s not like you’re some baby who needs milk or something!” Her protests were sharp, but there was a tremor in her tone, a crack in her defiance as his gaze darkened, locking onto her with an intensity that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Kafka’s eyes narrowed, his stare turning predatory as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a rough, commanding tone. “Oh, milk cows like you don’t get an opinion on the farm, Nina. When the master wants to milk his herd, you obey—you line up and let those tits get drained.”

“…No arguing, no fuss—just sweet, obedient cows giving up what’s mine.”

His words dripped with a dark edge, and Nina’s heart raced, her body betraying her as a flush of heat spread through her, her pussy tingling with sudden, undeniable excitement.

He then flashed an evil, lust-laden smile, his gaze sweeping over all three of them—Abigaille, Nina, and Camila as his hand slid down to rub the straining bulge in his pants. “And if you start fighting back, saying you won’t give me that milk? Well, I’d have no choice but to bring out the bull.”

His voice turned gravelly, as he squeezed himself harder.

“Let it hammer those tight little pussies so fucking hard you’d be leaking milk nonstop—pounding you until you’re dripping from every hole, begging to be milked while it fills you up.”

The air stilled with raw, electric tension, and all three women felt it—a hot, pulsing wave that soaked their cores, their pussies growing wet as their minds spun with the filthy image he’d painted.

They could almost feel it: his fat, throbbing cock ramming into them, relentless and brutal, while their breasts sprayed milk in wild arcs, their bodies trembling as they were fucked and milked like helpless, lust-drunk cows.

The thought sent a shiver of excitement through them, their breaths quickening as their nipples hardened even more, milk beading at the tips.

Kafka’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as he caught their reactions, his hand still stroking his boner through his pants. “You better start milking yourselves.” He growled, his voice a dark threat. “The bull in these pants is getting pissed—aching to break free and find someone to unleash on, so don’t make me let it loose.” His words hung heavy, and they all gulped, a shared thrill tightening their throats as their resolve crumbled.

And without another word, they moved. Even Abigaille, who’d been nestled beside him, rose from the sofa, her body trembling with a mix of nerves and heat as she joined the others.

They lined up in front of him, a breathtaking sight: three naked, milk-drenched bodies, their breasts full and glistening, nipples leaking as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

Kafka’s smile deepened, a wicked curve that sent a shiver through them as he leaned back, spreading his legs wider. “That’s it—my sexy little herd. Start milking those tits—aim for my face. I’m ready to take it all, every fucking drop.”

Nina bit her lip, her hands trembling as she hovered them near her chest, her eyes darting to his expectant grin.

Abigaille mirrored her, a shy flush painting her cheeks as she hesitated, her breath shallow.

But Camila, bold and mischievous as ever didn’t wait. She stepped forward with a sultry smirk, her hands cupping her plump breasts as she squeezed hard.

A thick stream of milk shot out, splattering across Kafka’s face in a warm, creamy arc.

“Like that, huh?” She purred, her voice dripping with heat as she aimed another jet, hitting his cheek and dripping down his jaw. “You like my hot milk all over your face, don’t you, you dirty boy?”

Her brazen move broke the dam.

Nina, spurred by a combination of rivalry and arousal, muttered a shaky. “Fine—here!” and squeezed her own breasts, milk spurting out in a messy spray that caught his forehead, running down his nose as she gasped at the sensation.

Abigaille followed, her hands slow but firm as she pressed her leaking nipples, sending twin streams cascading onto his chin, her soft—”Oh…There you go, sweetie.”—barely audible over the wet splashes.

And just like that, the three of them stood there, squeezing and squirting, milk flying in wild, erotic bursts as Kafka tilted his head back, letting it rain over him—drenching his face, soaking his shirt, and pooling in his lap as he groaned in hot, filthy satisfaction…