God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem - Chapter 671

Chapter 671: It’s All Your Fault
Olivia rested against her son’s chiseled chest, her plump ass nestled into his muscled thigh, her soaked blue underwear a flimsy shield against the heat of his skin. Abigaille, pressed against his other side, radiated a playful warmth, her bronzed curves molded to him, her purple underwear clinging to her like a lover’s caress.

The single chair they shared groaned softly, their bodies entwined in a tableau of forbidden affection, Kafka’s arms encircling them both, his hands resting on their hips, a possessive embrace that filled Olivia with a serene bliss. She thought this moment, her son’s love, their shared joy, was the homecoming she’d dreamed of, a peace she hoped would last forever.

But the tranquility shattered when Kafka’s hands moved, sliding upward to grope her breasts from beneath, his fingers kneading the soft flesh through her bra.

Olivia’s breath hitched, a jolt of surprise coursing through her, but she was growing accustomed to his bold antics, the town’s openness and Abigaille’s influence having blurred the lines of propriety.

She let him continue, her body relaxing into his touch, reasoning that as long as she could hold him like this, feel his warmth, she didn’t mind.

“It’s fine.” She murmured to herself, her voice barely audible, her cheek pressed against his chest, savoring the closeness despite the impropriety.

Then Kafka’s touch grew boider, his fingers tracing the outline of her nipples over her bra, the gentle caress sending a shiver through her as her rock-hard peaks responded, each stroke amplified by the thin fabric.

The sensation was horrifying, stirring a shameful arousal she fought to ignore, her body clinging tighter to him, unwilling to break the moment. She bit her lip, her heart racing, telling herself it was still within bounds, that she could handle this much.

But Kafka pushed further, his hand slipping beneath her bra, his warm fingers grazing the curvy underside of her bare breast, the direct contact igniting a fire in her lower half. Her breath caught, her body trembling with a pleasure she couldn’t deny, but the line was blurring too fast, the intimacy too raw.

When his hand moved upward, cupping her breast fully, his fingers poised to pinch her nipple, Olivia’s resolve finally snapped.

The act was too much, a boundary she couldn’t let him cross. She pulled back abruptly, her hands flying to cover her chest, her cheeks flaming as she met his gaze with a coy, flustered expression.

“Kafi, no.” She said, her voice soft but firm, tinged with a shy scolding. “You can’t do that. It’s…it’s okay over the clothes, maybe, but not like this, not touching me…bare. That’s too much.” She tried to sound motherly, to guide him back to normalcy, to make him see the impropriety. “You shouldn’t touch your mother like that, sweetheart. It’s not normal, okay? Let’s just…keep it respectful.”

Kafka’s brow furrowed, his expression one of innocent confusion, his hands still hovering near her.

“What’s wrong with it, Mom?” He asked, his voice a low, earnest rumble, his eyes searching hers. “I’ve groped your breasts before, haven’t I? Over the clothes, under, it’s not that different, right? Just feels nice, that’s all. Why’s it a big deal now?”

His tone was so genuine, so devoid of guilt, that Olivia’s heart sank, realizing the depth of his transformation. The town’s openness, Abigaille’s manipulative ‘lessons’ had reshaped him into a creature of unchecked desire, a little demon who saw no boundaries between mother and son, his innocence twisted into something dangerously uninhibited.

Undeterred, Kafka reached for her bra, tugging at the bottom, the fabric lifting to reveal the soft curve of her breast’s underside.

“Please, Mom.” He said, his voice a playful plea, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Just one touch, or at least a peek. They’re so…perfect. I can’t help it.”

His fingers pulled harder, the bra inching upward, and Olivia’s panic surged, her hands moving faster to yank it back down, covering herself as she leaned away.

“No, Kafi, stop!” She cried, her voice a flustered mix of authority and embarrassment, her cheeks burning as she tried to hold her ground. “You can’t do that, it’s too much! I’m your mother, not…not some toy for you to play with. This isn’t right, and you need to understand that!”

Her words were stern, but her blush and trembling hands made her look more like a shy lover than a scolding parent, undermining her attempt at discipline.

Abigaille, who had been watching with a sly smile, chose that moment to intervene, her voice a teasing pout as she slid closer to Kafka, wrapping her arms around him.

“Oh, Liv, you’re being so mean.” She said, her tone dripping with mock indignation, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Poor Kafi’s just asking for a little love, and you’re rejecting him? Can’t believe you’d do that to our sweet boy.”

She hugged Kafka tightly, her breast pressing against his arm, her voice softening as she nuzzled his shoulder.

“There, there, baby, it’s okay. Even if Olivia’s not showing you enough love, I’m right here. I’ll shower you with all the love you need, always.”

Her words were a deliberate jab, framing Olivia as the villain, and she punctuated them with a playful kiss on Kafka’s cheek, her gaze flicking to Olivia with a taunting glint.

Olivia’s jaw dropped, her embarrassment giving way to a flare of anger as she glared at Abigaille.

“That’s not fair, Abi!” She snapped, her voice rising with Indignation, her hands still clutching her bra. “You’re making me out to be the bad guy, when it’s your fault he’s like this! You’re the one who’s been encouraging him, tricking him into thinking this…this behavior is okay!”

“…You need to stop enabling him and help me change him back, not push him further!”

Her words were a desperate plea, her frustration with Abigaille’s influence boiling over, her heart aching at the thought of her son’s warped understanding.

Abigaille’s smile was infuriatingly innocent, her eyes wide with feigned confusion as she tilted her head.

“Me? Encouraging him?” She said, her voice a soft, mocking lilt. “Livia, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just giving Kafi what he wants, showing him the love he craves. That’s all there is to it, no sneaky intentions here.” She leaned closer, her tone dropping to a whisper. “You’re overthinking it, Liv. He’s happy, I’m happy, what’s the harm?”

Before Olivia could retort, Abigaille turned to Kafka, her smile warm and inviting as she cupped his face, her voice a gentle prompt.

“Isn’t that right, Kafi? You just want to love your moms, don’t you? To touch us, feel us, maybe…see us a little more? Like Olivia’s breasts, or mine—don’t you want to hold them, bury your face in them? Tell her how you feel, baby.”

Kafka nodded, his expression earnest, his voice a low, unashamed confession. “Yeah, Mom, it’s true.” He said, his eyes flicking between them, a spark of desire in his gaze. “Whenever I look at your breasts, I just…I wanna feel them in my hands, so soft, so round. I wanna bury my face in them, just…lose myself. They’re irresistible, I don’t know why. I can’t help it.”

His words were unguarded, and Olivia gasped, her heart pounding with disbelief at how far he’d fallen, his desires laid bare without a trace of shame.

Abigaille’s smile widened, a bright t gleam in her eyes as she clapped her hands.

“See, Olivia? He’s just being honest, so open about what he wants. And for being such a good, truthful boy, I’m gonna reward him…do what you wouldn’t.”

To Olivia’s horror, Abigaille’s hands moved to her bra, her fingers hooking under the fabric as she began to lift it, the purple material sliding upward to reveal the swell of her massive breasts, her nipples hardening in the open air, a brazen display that sent a shockwave through the room.

“No, Abi!” Olivia cried, her panic surging as she lunged forward, her hands grabbing Abigaille’s bra and yanking it back down, covering her before Kafka could react.

Her cheeks flamed, her voice trembling with anger and desperation. “What are you doing? You can’t just…flash your breasts at him like that! He’s your son, for God’s sake—that’s completely inappropriate!” Her hands shook, her body pressed close to Abigaille’s as she held the bra in place, her heart racing with the audacity of the act.

Abigaille pouted, her eyes glinting with mock offense as she leaned back, her voice a teasing rebuke. “Oh, come on, Olivia.” She said, her tone dripping with playful defiance. “Just because you’re not comfortable doing it doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“…Kafi wants to see, don’t you, baby? I’m just giving him a little love, that’s all.” She reached for her bra again, her fingers tugging at the fabric, but Olivia was faster, her hands clamping down to stop her, her voice rising with urgency.

“Stop it, Abi!” Olivia snapped, her tone sharp but flustered, her cheeks burning as she glared at her friend. “We’re eating dinner right now, that’s what we’re here for. No groping, no flashing, no…no anything else!”

“…Can we please just focus on the food?”

Her words were a desperate plea, an attempt to steer the moment back to safety, knowing that without the excuse of dinner, neither Kafka nor Abigaille would listen.

Kafka’s gaze softened, his head tilting as he nodded, his voice a low, compliant murmur.

“You’re right, Mom.” He said, his eyes locking onto hers with a warmth that eased her nerves, though a flicker of something darker lurked beneath. “We should get to dinner, focus on the food like you said…No more distractions.”

His smile was disarming, and Olivia’s heart lifted, relief washing over her as she thought he was finally heeding her boundaries, his compliance a rare victory in their spiraling dance.

But the look in his dark eyes sent a chill down her spine, a premonition of something wicked to come…