God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 651: A Mother’s Love

Abigaille laughed softly, a warm, reassuring sound, her ass shifting slightly, making her cheeks jiggle against Kafka's face, his muffled hum growing louder.

"Oh, Liv, I had the same worry at first." She said, her tone light, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I thought, 'My goodness, I'm gonna smother him, kill him with this thing!'...But somehow, he's always fine—more than fine even."

"I can feel his breath, you know, right...inside my ass. He's breathing, enjoying every second...He's probably in heaven right now, loving how soft and warm it is."

She paused, her smile turning coy, a flicker of pride in her eyes.

"He's tougher than he looks, our Kafi and this is his happy place, believe it or not."

Olivia's eyes widened, a wave of relief washing over her, quickly followed by a fresh surge of disbelief.

"Oh...oh, okay." She said, her voice faltering, a nervous laugh escaping her as she processed Abigaille's words. "That's...good, then. I mean, as long as he's not suffocating, I guess..."

Her gaze dropped to Kafka again, his face still lost in Abigaille's ass, his hands kneading her hips with a steady rhythm, the muffled sounds of his pleasure a testament to his contentment.

The relief was real, but the heat in her body, the throbbing ache in her lower half, only intensified, the taboo act before her pulling her deeper into a world she both feared and craved.

Olivia's thoughts also churned, her body still trembling from the surreal act of Abigaille sitting on Kafka's face, a gesture Abigaille had framed as a loving reward.

If she were in Abigaille's place, her ass pressed against her son's face, Olivia was certain her mind would spiral into forbidden, immoral thoughts no mother should harbor.

The idea gnawed at her, urging her to understand Abigaille's perspective, to know if her friend was wrestling with the same illicit desires.

So, leaning closer, she spoke, her voice soft but laced with urgency.

"Abi...H-How does it feel right now?" She asked, her eyes searching her friend's flushed face. "Having...Having Kafi's face there, on your ass like that? What's it like for you?"

Abigaille's lips curled into a coy, almost secretive smile, her cheeks glowing as she shifted slightly, her ass still engulfing Kafka's face, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive ease.

"Oh, Olivia..." She said, her voice low and sultry, tinged with a playful embarrassment. "It's...strange, I'll admit. Makes me all flustered, knowing my son's buried so deep in my cheeks, probably catching every bit of my...fragrance down there."

Her blush deepened, her eyes glinting with a bit of shame and thrill.

"And, well, if my underwear slipped just a little, he'd see the deepest parts of me, parts no one's supposed to see...That's what really gets me—how intimate it is, how close he is to everything."

Her words were candid, her body trembling with the forbidden excitement of it, yet she softened, her expression shifting to a warm, matronly glow.

"But it's fine, you know? I'm okay with it, all this embarrassment, because it's for Kafi. As long as he's happy, I'll do whatever he asks since that's what mothers do."

"...Do anything for the sake of their children's happiness."

She paused, her smile turning wistful, her ass shifting subtly against Kafka's face, drawing a muffled hum from him.

"And compared to before, when he wouldn't even look at us, kept us at arm's length...this is so much better, Olivia."

"Sure, it's a bit...awkward, doing something like this with my own son, but I'd rather have this than a son who shuts me out."

Her voice was earnest, her eyes meeting Olivia's with a quiet conviction, her body relaxed despite the audacity of her position.

Olivia nodded, a pang of understanding settling in her chest.

The memory of Kafka's distance, his rejection of their affection in the past, made this bizarre closeness feel like a twisted gift, a way to reclaim what they'd lost.

"You're right." She said softly, her voice trembling with a blend of empathy and unease. "It's...better than him pushing us away. Even if it's...strange, I'd take a quirky son over one who doesn't talk to us."

Her words were a quiet agreement, her gaze flickering to Kafka's submerged face, the muffled sounds of his pleasure clear evidence to his contentment, yet the heat in her body only intensified, the taboo act stirring a curiosity she couldn't shake.

Kafka's hands then suddenly moved, patting Abigaille's hips with intent, almost as if signaling something.

Olivia also noticed this, her brow furrowing as she leaned forward, her voice hesitant.

"Abi, what's he doing? Is he...telling you to get up?" She asked, her eyes darting between Abigaille's flushed face and Kafka's buried form, a flicker of worry creeping into her tone. "Does he need air or something?"

Abigaille shook her head, a shy, hesitant smile crossing her lips as she glanced down at Kafka, her ass still pressed firmly against his face.

"No, it's not that." She said, her voice soft, almost reluctant, her blush deepening. "That's...his signal for more. He wants me to...move around a bit, you know, give him more."

Her words were laced with embarrassment, her eyes flickering away from Olivia's shocked gaze, but before Olivia could ask what she meant, Abigaille's expression shifted to one of quiet frustration, as if resigned to the inevitable.

And then to Olivia's utter shock, Abigaille began to move, her ass lifting slightly before slamming back down on Kafka's face, her plump cheeks jiggling with each motion, the fat flesh clapping against his skin with an obscene, wet smack that echoed in the room.

"Smack!♡~ Smack!♡~ Smack!♡~ Mmmm!♡~ Smack!♡~"

Up and down she went, her ass bouncing, the soft, brown curves pounding his face, the sound of her cheeks slapping against him loud and unabashed, like a drumbeat of forbidden desire.

"Aah!♡~ Smash!♡~ Ooooh!♡~ Mm!♡~ Unghh!♡~ Bang!♡~ Slap!♡~ Smack!♡~ Nnm!"

Kafka on the other hand remained silent, his hands gripping her hips tighter, his fingers sinking into her flesh as he savored the rough, sensual assault, his muffled moans barely audible beneath the onslaught.

"Mm!♡~ Aaaah!♡~ Bang!♡~ Ooh!♡~ Ungh!♡~ Slap!♡~Slap!♡~ Nmm!"

Abigaille's movements also grew bolder, her ass twerking against his face, the flesh rippling with each thrust, the black underwear straining as her cheeks clapped together, enveloping him in a relentless, erotic dance.

Olivia's eyes widened, her jaw dropping as she watched, her body frozen in a state of stunned arousal, the sight of Abigaille's ass slamming against Kafka's face searing into her mind.

The noise—wet, sultry, and unmistakably lewd sent a shiver through her, her pussy throbbing with a need she couldn't suppress.

Abigaille, catching Olivia's shocked expression, paused her movements, her ass still pressed against Kafka's face, and spoke, her voice calm but tinged with a playful edge.

"Don't look so surprised, Olivia." She said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "This is just...how he likes to wrap things up."

"He says it's like a massage, a rough one, like wet clouds slapping against his face. It's his favorite way to end the reward, feeling my ass pound him like this. Truly, it's...therapeutic for him."

Olivia's throat tightened, her voice emerging in a hesitant whisper as she nodded, her eyes still wide.

"I...I see." She said, her tone faltering, her gaze locked on Abigaille's jiggling ass, the obscene clapping still ringing in her ears. But the heat in her body pushed her to speak, her curiosity overriding her shock. "But...even if he calls it a massage, it's...it's so naughty, Abigaille."

She said, her cheeks flushing as she stumbled over the word, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I mean, the sounds—it's so...dirty. I didn't even know a butt could make sounds like that!"

Abigaille laughed, a warm, throaty sound that vibrated through her body, her ass shifting slightly, making Kafka's face sink deeper into her cheeks, his muffled moan rising in response.

"Oh, I know." She said, her voice playful, her blush fading into a bold confidence. "I didn't either, not until I started...well, slamming my butt on his face like this. It's...surprising, isn't it? The way it claps, the way it feels."

She paused, her ass resuming its slow twerk, her cheeks pounding Kafka's face with a steady motion, the wet smacks filling the room.

"And yeah, it's naughty, I suppose. Every time I push down, I can feel his face sinking deeper, his nose...poking places that, well, haven't seen the light of day, if you know what I mean."

Her voice dropped to a sultry murmur, her eyes glinting with a wicked thrill, her body trembling with the forbidden pleasure of it.

Olivia's face burned, her breath catching at the vivid image, the thought of Kafka's nose brushing Abigaille's most intimate crevices sending a jolt of arousal through her.

"That's...so intense." She whispered, her voice trembling, her thighs pressing together to quell the throbbing in her pussy. "But...you're okay with it? Knowing how...taboo it looks?"

Abigaille's smile turned thoughtful, her ass still grinding against Kafka's face, the clapping sounds softening as she slowed her movements, her eyes meeting Olivia's with a quiet intensity.

"To others, sure, it's taboo." She said, her voice steady, almost defiant. "If anyone else saw this, they'd clutch their pearls, call it scandalous, wrong."

"...I get it—I had those thoughts too, at first. My heart raced, my mind screamed it was too much, too far."

She paused, her ass pressing down harder, drawing a deep moan from Kafka, his hands gripping her tighter.

"But right now, it's just us, Olivia. A son and his two mothers, no one else to judge. What I'm doing...it's not naughty, not dirty, not in my heart...It's my love for Kafi, my way of giving him what he needs, what makes him happy."

"...He wants this closeness, this...connection, and I'm happy to give it, no matter how it looks."

Her words hung in the air, a bold declaration of maternal devotion twisted into something profoundly intimate, and Olivia's chest tightened, her emotions swirling in a storm of understanding and desire.

Abigaille's conviction, her willingness to embrace the act as love, resonated with Olivia's own longing to reconnect with Kafka, yet the taboo of it, the wet, clapping sounds, the image of his face buried in her cheeks, left her breathless, her body aching with a feeling she couldn't name.

Abigaille's gaze then sharpened, a teasing glint flashing in her eyes as she leaned forward, her ass still pressed against Kafka's face, and spoke, her voice dropping to a playful, challenging tone.

"This is all fine between a mother and son as long their intentions are pure, that is unless...you're having other thoughts, Olivia?"

"...Something a bit naughtier than maternal love, hmm?"

Her smile was devilish, her eyes glinting with mischief as she twerked her ass harder, the smacks loud and crisp, Kafka's muffled moans rising in response.

Hearing this, Olivia's face flushed crimson, panic surging as she waved her hands frantically, her voice stumbling over itself.

"N-No, no, that's not it at all!" She blurted, her eyes wide, her heart racing as she tried to deflect. "I was just...joking, Abigaille! I know it's maternal love, nothing else, I swear! I'd never think anything...taboo about Kafi, never!"

Her words were a desperate defense, her blush betraying the truth she couldn't admit, the illicit thrill that had her thighs trembling, her cunt wet with desire.

Abigaille's smile widened, a teasing, almost knowing edge to it as she slowed her movements, her ass still engulfing Kafka's face, his hands kneading her hips with a contented rhythm.

"Good, good." She said, her voice dripping with playful skepticism, her eyes locked on Olivia's flushed face. "Because if you were having those kinds of thoughts, Olivia, that'd be...well, bad for the family, wouldn't it? No mother should look at her son that way, right?"

Her tone was light, but the challenge was clear, her smile devilish as she leaned back, her ass pressing harder against Kafka's face.

Olivia's heart pounded, her face burning as she struggled to respond, the accusation, however teasing hitting too close to the desires she was fighting to suppress.

Abigaille's transformation, from the innocent friend she'd known to this bold, provocative woman, was staggering, a product of the town's strange influence, and Olivia felt a pang of disorientation, wondering how deeply she herself was being pulled into the same web.

Before she could muster a reply, Kafka's voice emerged, muffled but clear, his lips brushing Abigaille's skin as he spoke, his tone laced with confusion.

"Hey, what's going on up there?" He asked, his face still buried in her ass, his hands pausing their kneading. "Why're you two staring at each other like that? Did something happen? I couldn't hear a thing—kinda hard with Mom's cheeks covering my ears."

His words were light, but the image of his face submerged in Abigaille's ass made Olivia's blush deepen, her mind reeling at the casualness of it all.

Olivia's voice burst forth, quick and nervous, her hands waving dismissively.

"Nothing, Kafi, nothing at all!" She said, her tone high-pitched, desperate to deflect, her. eyes darting away from Abigaille's teasing gaze. "We were just...talking, that's all, nothing's wrong!"

Her words were a frantic cover, her heart racing as she tried to hide the truth, the illicit thoughts Abigaille had so slyly prodded.

Abigaille's smile turned sly, her eyes glinting with amusement as she joined in, her voice smooth and playful.

"Yeah, Kafi, nothing's wrong." She said, her ass shifting slightly, grinding against his face, drawing another moan from him. "Just chatting about Olivia's love for you and how deep it runs...Right, Olivia?"

Her tone was teasing, her gaze locking onto Olivia's, a silent provocation that made Olivia's stomach twist, her blush deepening as she realized Abigaille knew more than she was saying, saw the struggle in her eyes, yet chose to keep it unspoken.

Olivia's mind spun, her emotions a tangled dance of shame, desire, and uncertainty.

Was Abigaille truly seeing Kafka in a purely maternal light, or was she, like Olivia, wrestling with forbidden feelings, masking them with talk of love?

The teasing, the knowing smiles, suggested Abigaille sensed Olivia's turmoil, yet refrained from calling it out directly, leaving Olivia adrift, unsure how to navigate the truth.

"Y-Yeah, just...love, Kafi. Nothing at all but a mother's love for her child." She stammered, her voice barely audible, her eyes flickering to Kafka's buried face, then back to Abigaille, her heart pounding with the weight of what remained unsaid...