God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 670

Chapter 670: Family Time
Kafka’s smile was wide, full of pride and playful modesty as he leaned back, his hand still resting on her hip, his thigh warm beneath her.

“Yeah, Mom, guilty as charged.” He said, his voice a soft, confident rumble. “But why are you so surprised? Cooking’s not that hard, is it?”

“…Or do you think I’m so incompetent I can’t even handle a kitchen?” His tone was teasing, but there was a confident glint in his eyes, daring her to underestimate him.

Olivia’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she shook her head frantically, her voice rushing out in a fervent defense.

“No, no, it’s not that, Kafi!” She said, her tone earnest, her hands gesturing wildly. “It’s just…you’ve never cooked before, not like this!”

“I mean, back in the day, if I asked you to chop a vegetable, you’d roll your eyes and disappear to your room. You wouldn’t even touch a knife. And now…now you’re making this?”

She gestured to the plate, the aftertaste of the food still vivid on her tongue, a symphony of flavors that lingered.

“This is some of the best food I’ve ever eaten, Kafi. It doesn’t even seem like something a beginner could do, it’s…it’s extraordinary.”

“…How did you learn this? When did you start? What got you into it?”

Kafka leaned back, his grin easy and modest, his hand squeezing Olivia’s hip as he shrugged.

“It’s no big deal, really.” He said, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet warmth. “Ever since we moved to this town, I wanted to step up, be better.”

“Part of that was helping Mom out around the house like washing dishes, taking out the trash, cleaning rooms, that kinda stuff. Just pulling my weight.”

Olivia nodded, a smile tugging at her lips as she glanced at Abigaille, who beamed with maternal pride.

“Oh, he’s been such a good boy, Liv.” Abigaille said, her voice rich with affection, her hand resting on Kafka’s thigh. “You should see him, zipping around the house, scrubbing pans, sweeping floors, even folding laundry like a pro. He’s been a godsend, haven’t you, Kafi?”

Kafka’s cheeks flushed slightly, his grin turning sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, it’s just what you do as a decent son, right?” He said, his tone casual but tinged with pride. “And one of those chores was cooking. I sarted out just to help Mom, take some load off her. But then…I don’t know, I got into it.

“Found out I kinda liked it, and I wasn’t half-bad either. So I kept at it, started experimenting, trying new stuff.” He paused, his eyes glinting with a spark of excitement. “I also wanted to get better, so I went next door to Camilla’s place you know, our neighbor?”

“She’s a divine cook, like, next-level. She took me under her wing, taught me all sorts of tricks, recipes, techniques…Between her lessons and cooking every day, I ended up with this.”

He gestured to the spread on the table, his voice softening.

“I’m glad you like it, Mom…It feels like all those months of work paid off, seeing you enjoy it.”

Olivia’s eyes widened, her heart racing as she shook her head, her voice fervent with emotion.

“No, no, no, Kafi, it’s my reward, not yours!” She said, her tone brimming with pride, her gaze locked on his. “To think, my son, who never had a single hobby, who’d spend all day holed up in his room, is out here cooking a feast like this?”

“And not just any feast, one that’s better than anything I’ve ever tasted? That’s…that’s everything to me. I’m so proud of you, so glad you’re growing, becoming this incredible person.” Her eyes shone with a fierce, motherly love, her chest swelling with a joy that felt almost too big to contain.

But then a thought struck her, her brow furrowing as she tilted her head, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Wait, Kafi…” She said, her gaze sharpening. “You told me you get anxious talking to people outside the family, that you struggle with strangers, especially girls.”

“Were you…okay talking to Camilla? I mean, I know her from our phone calls, she’s lovely, but still. How’d you manage that?”

Kafka’s smile softened, his hand sliding up her back, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Yeah, I was fine with Camilla.” He said, his voice steady, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet sincerity. “She’s older, you know? Got this…motherly vibe, kinda like you and Mom…For some reason, that made it easy.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because she reminds me of you both, warm, caring, like she gets me. I could open up to her, talk without freezing up. Felt…safe, I guess.”

Olivia’s heart fluttered, a surge of pride and warmth flooding her at his words. The idea that Kafka felt comfortable with Camilla because she resembled her and Abigaille, that their maternal presence was his anchor, made her feel cherished, elevated above all others in his world.

It was as if he’d placed her on a pedestal, her influence shaping his ability to connect, and the thought filled her with a quiet, glowing joy, a sense that she was his everything.

Abigaille’s voice broke the moment, her tone playful as she nudged Olivia’s arm, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“Olivia, look at the table.” She said, gesturing to the spread before them. “It’s not just a feast, Kafi made all your favorite dishes. Every single one, done exactly how you like them. Go on, see for yourself.”

Olivia’s gaze followed Abigaille’s gesture, her breath catching as she took in the array of dishes—creamy mashed potatoes swirled with garlic butter, just how she loved them; tender, herb-crusted roast chicken, sliced thin like she preferred; a vibrant salad with her favorite tangy dressing, every detail perfect.

Her eyes widened, her heart pounding as she realized the truth of Abigaille’s words, the care Kafka had poured into every plate.

“Kafi…” She whispered, her voice trembling, her gaze snapping to him, searching his face for confirmation. “Is this…all for me?”

Kafka’s expression turned shy, his cheeks flushing and his voice soft but earnest.

“Y-Yeah, Mom.” He said, his eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity. “I didn’t just wanna make a feast to welcome you back. I wanted it to feel like…home, you know? Like you were really back with us.”

“So I asked Mom about all your favorite foods, how you like them cooked, every little detail. Worked hard to get it right, just for you, but I’m…I’m glad you liked it at the end of the day.”

Olivia’s eyes glistened, tears welling as a wave of emotion crashed over her, her heart swelling with a love so fierce it stole her breath.

“Kafi…” She said, her voice cracking, her hands trembling as she reached for him. “You did all this…for me? Really?” Her gaze darted to the table, then back to his face, her voice thick with awe.. “This…this is everything. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble, just to make me feel at home.”

Kafka’s smile was gentle, his hand squeezing her hip as he leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur.

“Of course, Mom.” He said, his eyes warm with affection. “Who else am I gonna do this for? You’re…you’re my mom. I wanted you to feel how much you mean to me, to us.”

His words were simple, but they hit her like a tidal wave, her emotions spilling over as she threw herself against him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight, desperate hug.

“Oh, Kafi!…” She choked out, her voice muffled against his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to him. “I’m so happy, so, so happy to have a son like you!”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to have you care so much, but I’m…I’m blessed. You’re so compassionate, so thoughtful that I just, I just I love you, I love you so much!”

Her words were a fervent prayer, her body trembling with the intensity of her feelings, her love for him a fire that burned away her earlier shame.

Kafka’s arms encircled her, his hands stroking her back in a soothing, tender motion his voice a low, heartfelt murmur.

“I love you too, Mom.” He said, his tone rich with emotion, his embrace tightening. “More than anything in the world and I always will.”

His touch was warm, grounding, and as he held her, Olivia felt a profound connection, a bond that transcended the taboo currents swirling around them.

Abigaille, not one to be left out, let out a playful huff, her voice a teasing pout as she threw herself against Kafka’s other side, her arms wrapping around him.

“Hey, don’t leave me out!” She said, her tone bright with affection, her breast pressing against his arm. “I love you too, Kafi, and I’m not letting you two have all the fun without me!”

Her laughter was infectious, her body molding to his, and Kafka chuckled, his arms expanding to envelop them both, pulling them close in a tight, possessive embrace.

The hug was intense, their large breasts squishing against each other, the thin fabric of their underwear doing little to dull the heat of their bodies pressed together.

Olivia’s heart also raced, her earlier arousal flaring as Kafka’s hands slid lower, his fingers brushing the curves of their butts, groping them with a bold, unapologetic touch.

But in the glow of their shared love, the act felt almost innocent, a natural extension of their closeness, and neither Olivia nor Abigaille pulled away, too caught in the moment to care. Their happiness was a bubble, enveloping them in a warmth that drowned out any lingering shame.

Kafka looked down at them, his mothers nestled against his chest, their faces radiant with love, and a slow, contented smile spread across his face. He was in heaven, his hands kneading their asses, the sensation grounding him in a bliss he savored without reservation.

“This…” He murmured, his voice a low, reverent rumble. “This is what spending ‘time’ with your family is all about. You two, right here with me…There’s nothing better than this.”

His fingers tightened, his grip possessive but tender, and as he held them, Olivia felt a surge of joy, a sense that, despite the taboo undercurrents, this moment, their love, their closeness, was a gift she’d cherish forever…