God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 668

Chapter 668: Divine Cooking
Kafka’s smile was warm, his eyes sparkling with delight as he leaned closer, his hand squeezing her hip gently.

“Of course, Mom.” He said, his voice rich with affection, a playful edge creeping in. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that. Been dying to feed you properly, to see you enjoy it.”

His grin turned mischievous, a smirk tugging at his lips as he added.

“But here’s the deal if I’m gonna feed you, I’m doing it my way. Like you’re a little kid, all cute and needy. No grown—up stuff, just pure baby treatment. That’s the only way I’ll do it.”

Olivia’s face flamed, a flush of embarrassment spreading down her neck as she processed his words. Being fed like a child, with all the playful theatrics, was mortifying, a step too far into vulnerability.

“Kafi, please.” She stammered, her voice tinged with protest. “Don’t make it too embarrassing. Just…feed me normally, okay? I don’t need the baby stuff.”

Kafka chuckled, his hand sliding up her back, his fingers tangling gently in her hair as he began to caress the back of her head, the touch soothing and electric, sending shivers down her spine.

“No promises, Mom.” He said, his voice a teasing purr, his eyes glinting with mischief. “This is how it’s gonna be, so are you ready?”

He scooped a spoonful of food from the plate, holding it tantalizingly close to her lips, his other hand still massaging her scalp, the sensation so pleasurable it made her eyes widen, her body melting into his touch like a massage she hadn’t known she needed.

The spoon hovered before her, and Kafka’s voice dropped to a low, seductive murmur, his words laced with a dirty undertone that sent a thrill through her.

“You want this, Mom?” He asked, his eyes locked on hers, his tone dripping with intent. “Want this nice, full spoon inside your mouth? All that delicious food, sliding right in?”

His fingers tightened slightly in her hair, her body responding despite her efforts to stay composed.

Olivia’s breath turned hit, her embarrassment warring with a shameful arousal at the way he spoke, the way his touch made her feel so pliant, so wanted. His words were about food, but they carried a naughty edge, a suggestive promise that made her pulse race.

“Y-Yes.” She whispered, her voice husky, her eyes meeting his with a hesitant, loving gaze. “I want it, Kafi. I want the food you’re feeding me.”

“Where do you want it, Mom?” He pressed, his smirk widening, his spoon inching closer, the scent of the food teasing her senses. “Tell me exactly where you want this.”

“In my mouth…” She said, her voice trembling with a sultry edge she hadn’t intended, her cheeks burning as she leaned into his touch. “All the way inside my mouth, Kafi. I want it all.”

Kafka’s eyes gleamed, his voice a low growl of approval. “Good girl.” He murmured, his fingers stroking her hair, sending shivers through her. “You gonna be a good girl and swallow it all? Not spit it out, not leave a single bit behind?”

“…Gonna take it all down, nice and deep, right into your stomach?”

“Y-Yes.” Olivia breathed, her voice thick with longing, her eyes locked on his, the dirty undertone of his words making her feel like they were talking about something far more intimate than food. “I’ll swallow it all, Kafi. Every piece, all the way down. I promise.”

Her gaze was adoring, her body alight with a pleasure she couldn’t deny, the act of being fed by her son a forbidden dance that thrilled her.

Kafka’s smile was bright, his voice a soft command as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her face.

“Good…” He said, his tone rich with praise. “Now open your mouth, nice and wide, like a good little girl. Show me you want it.”

Olivia obeyed, her lips parting slowly, revealing the soft, pink interior of her mouth, her pearly teeth gleaming in the dim light. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal in his gaze as he murmured.

“Wider, Mom. I wanna see it all your whole mouth, how much you’re craving this food. Open up for me.”

Olivia hesitated, her embarrassment surging, but the gentle tug of his fingers in her hair, the dominant edge to his touch, urged her on. She opened wider, her mouth fully exposed, her fleshy pink insides glistening, her eyes meeting his with anticipation and vulnerability.

Abigaille, watching from her seat on Kafka’s other thigh, let out a soft hum, her own body responding to the charged scene, her eyes glinting with arousal despite the innocence of the act.

“Perfect…” Kafka said, his voice a low purr, his gaze fixed on her open mouth. “Now stick out your tongue, Mom. Don’t want it pushing the spoon out when I slide it in. Show me you’re ready.”

Olivia paused, her heart pounding, the request pushing her further into submission. But as she hesitated, Kafka’s grip tightened in her hair, a subtle but commanding pull that sent a jolt through her, urging her to comply.

With a shaky breath, she extended her tongue, wet and succulent, the motion sultry and tender, her eyes never leaving his.

Kafka’s smirk deepened, his voice a velvet growl.

“Good girl, taking this food like a champ.” He said, guiding the spoon into her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion, the metal brushing her tongue as he pushed it deep. “Close your mouth now, Mom. Savor it, every single piece. Don’t let any slip out.”

Olivia obeyed, her lips sealing around the spoon, her eyes fluttering as she tasted the food, the flavors rich and complex. He pulled the spoon out slowly, his fingers still caressing her hair, his gaze locked on her as she began to chew.

She’d wanted a simple feeding, a taste of Kafka’s care, but his dominant touch, his suggestive words, had turned it into something far more erotic.

As she chewed, the flavors exploded on her tongue—savory, sweet, and tangy, a symphony of tastes that made her eyes widen in disbelief, her earlier arousal giving way to pure, unadulterated delight.

“Oh my God.” She gasped, her lips parting as she swallowed, her voice trembling with awe. “Kafi, this is…this is incredible.”

She turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement, her embarrassment forgotten in the wake of the food’s perfection.

“It’s utterly delicious—I’m not even exaggerating. This is probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life. The flavors, they’re so…perfect, so balanced. There’s this richness, this texture, all blending together in this…harmonious dance. I didn’t want to stop chewing, just wanted to keep it in my mouth forever.”

Her words spilled out in a rush, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she leaned closer, her body still pressed against his.

Kafka’s grin was wide, his eyes twinkling with pride as he watched her reaction, his hand still resting on her hip. “Glad you like it, Mom.” He said, his voice warm with satisfaction. “Didn’t even need to ask you look like you’re in love with, but I’d love to hear more about how it tastes.”

“It’s…divine.” Olivia said, her voice fervent, her eyes locked on his. “There’s this savory depth, like it’s been simmering for hours, and then this burst of sweetness that catches you off guard, and the texture—it’s so varied, so perfect…I can’t believe how good it is.”

She turned to Abigaille, her assumption swift as she gestured to the plate.

“Abi, you made this, didn’t you? You’ve always been the cook in this house, but this…this is next-level. Your food was good before, but now? It’s like you’re a master chef.”

“…How did you do it? Are you cooking every day, taking classes, what? Whatever you’re doing, keep it up, this is simply too good to be true.”

She’d expected Abigaille to beam, to soak up the compliments with the giddy joy she always showed when her cooking delighted the family.

In the past, her praise had made Abigaille’s eyes sparkle, her smile wide as she basked in the happiness her food brought.

But now, to Olivia’s shock, Abigaille’s face fell, a wounded, almost betrayed expression clouding her features, her lips trembling as if Olivia’s words had pierced her heart…